Hard Times
by Ada Kensington
Summary: A black comedy set in a Hunter x Hunterverse recession, in which the Phantom Troupe are so hard up, they accept a job from the Zoldyck family to spy on Illumi at his Yorknew City townhouse. Easy money, right? [No OCs plus cracklicious plot equals ...profit?]
1. The House at Number 44, Tarsetol Avenue

Hard Times

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Hi. This is my first Hunter x Hunter fic. I just discovered the series about a month ago. Having been hooked the minute I watched the first episode, I powered through the reboot episodes in about two or three weeks, stopping short of the Chimera Ant arc because I want to watch that arc right through before I catch up and have to go through the agony of a weekly wait for new episodes. I am currently re-watching it from the beginning again.

I fell in love with the characters straight off the bat. All of them (except Ging. I want Gon to punch him so hard). I have, however, an especial liking for Hisoka and Illumi. They're both lunatics and I love my villains weird.

In this daft story, Gon and Killua are sixteen. Kurapika is seventeen and Leorio is nineteen. It would get weird, otherwise. Trust me.

Thanks for reading and hope you like it! :)

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- chapter one -

The House at Number Forty-Four Tarsetol Avenue

* * *

"How much do we have left?"

Ignoring Phinks, Machi stared in disbelief at the number flashing on the screen. How on earth had it come to this? They were the Phantom Troupe, for god's sake!

"How much?" came Phinks' demand again.

Snarling, Machi curled her fist and slammed it into the wall in frustration, startling several passers-by and causing one old lady to drop her shopping bags. As the wizened cabbage-munching crone's weekly supplies scattered across the pavement, several people stopped to help herd her fresh-bought purchases back into her bags. Not the troupe, however. Ignoring the flustered woman completely, they instead took the opportunity to crane their necks to sneak a look at the ATM screen.

There was a collective gasp.

"Four-thousand Jenny? You've got to be joking?" she heard Pakunoda cry out in despair.

"Ah? That's not even enough for one room at the Journey Lodge," Shalnark added, despondently.

"Shit. Shit!" Phinks snarled, as he began to pace back and forth across the pavement in a state of agitation. "What are we gonna do? This is serious, guys. This is actually serious."

"Calm down, Phinks—"

"Calm down? _Calm down?_ Feitan, we don't even have enough cash to buy one night in a fucking Journey Lodge!" Phinks roared, turning on Feitan, who rolled his eyes.

"We've been broke before and we got through it," Feitan replied, unfazed. "Remember where we came from."

"Yeah? Well, I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't wanna go back to it!"

"Guys, we're not going to get anywhere if you start fighting," Machi heard Shizuku plea. She almost wanted to punch Shizuku to shut her up so that she'd have an excuse to go wild on the guys for irritating her.

As Machi fought to calm herself while the fuzzy, staccato bursts of the troupe's bickering washed over her, one of the old lady's apples rolled lazily toward her foot and bumped against it. She looked down. It was shiny and red. Freshly waxed and probably delicious. She hadn't eaten properly for three days. None of them had. For a moment, Machi was sorely tempted to pick it up, dust it off and devour the damned thing, but she decided to do something else instead.

Summoning all her strength, all her rage, all her frustration and all her irritation at their downturn in fortunes, their lack of money, having nowhere to stay and at Feitan and Phinks arguing over fucking nothing, she kicked the apple so hard it burst into flames. Thundering through the air, it shot into and turned over a passing taxi cab. There was a squeal of metal, followed by a crunch and then screaming. She paid no heed to it, however, for it was entirely inconsequential. Background noise, just like the arguing. All she could think about was their bank balance. It was humiliating.

The financial crisis had hit everyone hard. After the York New Stock Exchange crashed, no one seemed to have any money. You would think a gang of top-flight, professional thieves would have been able to survive, but those who were once their patrons had withdrawn left, right and centre when the the value of their investments plummeted. Those to whom they once sold goods could no longer afford to buy, therefore, there was no purpose in theft. Years later, the economy still languishing in the long nadir of recession, all the Phantom Troupe had left were warehouses full of priceless treasure they couldn't sell and four-thousand Jenny in the bank.

Four-thousand Jenny. God, it really was humiliating. This situation. This whole ridiculous scenario couldn't go on any longer. Machi, the whole crew, had one hope left. Only one. She hoped against hope that he would come through for them, just like he'd always done.

"I'm calling the boss," she announced suddenly, as the wail of emergency service sirens cut through the air, called to attend to the collisions that had developed as a result of the upended taxi, which still spun gently, upside-down in the middle of the road.

The rest of her colleagues fell silent, and turned to look at her, ceasing their bickering. She smiled. That shut them up.

"He said to give him a fortnight, but since we don't have anything like that long..." she began as she slipped her phone from her inside pocket (the only one with any credit) and began to punch in Chrollo's number.

She jumped as the phone vibrated, almost dropping it in shock.

The screen switched to the new, incoming message. Well, well, well... she thought, with a calculating smile as she perused the short message from the boss. It seemed as though their luck might finally be on the up.

"Who was that from?" Nobunaga demanded.

Machi smiled and waved the phone playfully. "The boss," she said. "He's found somewhere for us to stay."

"Really? Where?" Pakunoda demanded, so full of desperation and relief Machi almost laughed.

Even though Paku had left Meteor City with the rest of them, more than anyone, she had struggled to cope with their ever-tightening budget. Poor Paku had grown accustomed to the luxuries in life: tailored suits, monthly trims at expensive salons, designer shoes, the very latest handgun models and the like. When their luxuries had lost their rarefied status during the budget-crushing long recession and were instead represented by such deluxe, decadent fripperies as deodorant, new underpants, MegaMart own brand beans and sneaking ten people into a twin room at the Journey Lodge and fighting over who got to sleep in the bed that night, well... Paku hadn't taken to it very well.

"York New City," Machi answered. "And don't worry. The boss says it's a nice place. It's a town house, so it's not like it's a block or anywhere we'll have to keep the noise down. We'll have the place to ourselves probably. He did a favour for Illumi Zoldyck. It's his house, but we're not getting to stay for free because Illumi's counting his pennies."

"Ha," Phinks snorted. "Must be hard times when even the Zoldycks are watching their cash."

"Yeah," Machi said, grinning, feeling with a sudden, glorious stab of misanthropy that the world wasn't such a cruel place after all. "The boss got paid today, so he's wiring us enough for airship tickets to York New, and enough for one month's rent in advance. He got a job. Won't tell us where, but it pays well. Should keep us going until this recession lifts."

"We can finally check out of the Journey Lodge! I never thought we'd see the day!" Nobunaga cheered.

"Ah, that's such a relief. I won't be disappointed to see the back of it," Shalnark said, with a slight smile. "But I think Uvo will miss stomping the cockroaches."

"I won't," Feitan said curtly. "He punched me last night when I came out the bathroom. Said I sounded like a cockroach. I was brushing my teeth at the time. He's a fucking liar."

"Well, you can put it all behind you, Feitan, because there are four bathrooms in this new place," Machi said cheerfully. "Just picture it: no more surprise punches or roach stomping at three in the morning. No more going into the bath after Uvo's shaved his back and clogged up the plughole."

There was a collective shudder at the memory. Not one of them had escaped the horror of heading back to the room after a hard day's job-seeking to discover the familiar furry ring around the bath.

"I don't think we shouldn't tell Uvo about the money. Not yet," Kortopi added.

"Why not?"

"Because he'll blow it all on cans of Raid. He's really got it in for those cockroaches. I heard him talking to them last night."

"Christ, he's finally cracked," Phinks muttered.

"Well, we need to check out, so why don't I distract him by taking him to the Gurber King on Main Street," Nobunaga offered. "Then you guys can sneak in, get our stuff, check out and meet us there. We'll order a whole bunch of stuff to celebrate, and if the boss doesn't wire us the cash in time, we can hang about till he does. Sound good?"

Machi allowed herself a moment to consider Kortopi and Nobunaga's suggestions. Judging by their expressions, it seemed the rest of the troupe were doing the same.

"What do you think, guys?" Feitan asked. "Personally, I would prefer just leaving Uvo behind, but since he's a member, we'll have to drag his massive carcass over to York New, and if we left him behind, he'd just grab his card and empty the account, like Kortopi said. I think that sounds like a plan."

They all nodded.

"We're agreed then," Feitan confirmed. "Okay, so Nobunaga, you head back to the Journey Lodge and grab Uvo. Once we see you leave, we'll head in, check out and meet you at Gurber King. I want a double cheese burger with bacon, no gherkins, large fries, mini dipping waffles and a Popsi. What do you guys want?"

"Two Whoppers, large fries, some onion rings and a Popsi. Oh, and make sure you get me some of that curry sauce for the fries," Phinks said.

"Hold on, hold on!" Nobunaga yelled, as he tried to keep up with the stream of orders, his thumbs a blur as he punched the troupe's demands into his phone to present to the cashier. "Right. Onion rings, Popsi, curry sauce. Next."

"Crispy chicken sandwich meal, with large fries and a Spright. And a hot fudge sundae," Shizuku said, her eyes sparkling.

"Same here, please, except with a hot chocolate sundae instead," Shalnark added, agreeably.

"Okay, okay, wait a sec," Nobunaga muttered. "That's two crispy chicken meals, one hot fudge, one chocolate. Next!"

"Regular sweet chilli crispy chicken meal, an apple pie and a bottle of water," came Paku's order.

"Right! Machi?"

"Two Tower Burgers, large fries, onion rings and as much ketchup as they'll hand over," she replied, feeling ravenous, simultaneously looking forward to the meal and ashamed that Gurber King had become such an anticipated treat.

"Got it. Just you left, Kortopi. What do you want?"

"A twenty box of nuggets and lots of sweet chilli sauce."

"Right. That's everyone," Nobunaga said finally, pocketing his phone. "We'll get you guys at Gurber King in half an hour. Then we can toast to the boss, York New City and our awesome new place."

oOo

Everything was going surprisingly well. Machi could scarcely believe it. The meal at Gurber King went off without a hitch, the boss having wired the money to the account just as her group sat down at the table Nobunaga and Uvo had been warming. The only slightly embarrassing incident had been the other patrons staring at Uvo's galactically-proportioned order – piles and piles of crispy chicken sandwiches, tower burgers, whoppers, onion rings, fries and enough apple pies to sink a cargo ship. She could hardly blame them for staring, though. Uvo eating was truly a sight to behold; quite possibly a scientific marvel. She could never shake the feeling she should be taking field notes, or something.

On the bright side, Uvo's terrifying, slobbering binge meant that he was more or less comatose for the entire flight, meaning the rest of them could enjoy their drinks at the airship bar without him having one too many and kicking off.

As a result, they arrived at York New airfield at exactly half past eight in the evening, after a minor half hour delay. It had been raining, so they had joined the taxi queue at the rank – half of them jumping into the first cab, the other half into the second. Yet another giddy extravagance. The boss had called Franklin and Machi had received a message informing her that he would be flying out tomorrow and would meet them at the house. Bolenov had managed to wangle a job teaching kids boxing in some posh, York New City high school, so no doubt they would meet up with him before long.

The taxi in front slowed to a crawl and halted. The driver of their car did the same, calling out over his shoulder, "Is it okay if I let ya out here? This street's a bitch to turn in."

Machi looked out the window onto the narrow street, inhabited by tall, looming houses of warm, brownish sandstone, punctuated at regimented intervals by single rows of plane trees on either side. The boss had definitely come through for them on this one. It was a really fancy street. The cars parked nose to tail in front of the houses screamed money.

"Yeah sure," she said, watching Feitan, Phinks and Paku from the car in front help Shizuku and Kortopi with their luggage. "How much?"

"3350 Jenny, kid."

Gritting her teeth, knowing that they were being ripped off, she grudgingly handed over the money and grunted at Uvo, Nobunaga and Shalnark to follow her. Since Uvo appeared especially keen to handle the luggage, they consented to having him lug the whole lot over to the house and she sauntered along the street with Shalnark to meet Feitan, who was loitering in front of one of the tall, brown houses.

"This is it. Number forty-four," Feitan said. "What did the boss say to do when we got here? Is this guy Illumi going to be here, or what?"

"I don't think so," Machi said, as she sat on the low wall and began to swing her legs. "He's working tonight. I think there's one other guy who's staying here. A friend of Illumi's, or something, but he works nights, so there's a key under the plant pot with the red maple in it. Illumi said it's okay for Kortopi to make copies, so we can all have one."

"Useful."

"Definitely."

They both looked up at the distant rumbling of suitcases trundling up the street, punctuated by occasional curses as the rest of the troupe encountered obstacles in the form of stray tree roots, uneven paving stones and their own ankles. This was not a problem for Uvo, however, as he strode, carefree, towards Machi and Feitan, with two cases shoved under each pit. The earth shook as he dumped them unceremoniously upon the ground.

"You're welcome!" he barked. Craning his neck skyward, he looked the place up and down, then let out a low whistle. "Nice place, this. Where's the key?"

"Under this plant pot," Feitan answered, moving behind the wall and retrieving the key from underneath the pot with the maple in it, just as the boss had said. "And there's nen all over this thing, by the way," he added, holding up the innocent-looking key for inspection.

"Yeah, well that makes sense," she said, with a shrug. "The Zoldycks aren't stupid. They wouldn't want just anyone in their house, would they?"

She hopped off the wall, dusting off the fine powder from the bricks that had adhered to the palms of her hands and clothes. Then she grinned and said, "You guys wanna head in?"

"Course I wanna head in!" Uvo scoffed. "I ain't waitin' for those losers. Come on, shortstuff!" he chuckled, slapping Feitan so hard on the back his knees buckled. "Open sesame!"

Muttering darkly, Feitan trudged up the short flight of stairs that led to a shining, glossy black door bearing the number forty-four in polished brass. He shoved the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open.

"All yours," he said. "Knock yourselves out."

Machi and Uvo exchanged a pair of wicked grins and they sprinted for the door, jostling for position to see who could make it through the door first. Uvo was strong, but Machi was faster, and she crossed the threshold with an inordinate amount of fist-pumping and cheering at Uvo's expense. Feitan brought up the rear, tossing the front door key upon a little wooden shelf.

"So how many rooms are in this place?" he asked as Machi scanned the hallway, taking in the smooth walls painted a warm grey, the white ceiling with ornate, sprawling cornicing and the magnificent, carpeted staircase with a wrought-iron banister that curved in a series of graceful, sinuous arcs out of sight to the upper floors and down to the basement rooms.

"Not sure," Machi replied. "Why?"

"Just wondering if we'll need to share or not."

"For the record, if we have to, I'm rooming with Paku," she asserted.

"Phinks," Feitan said, raising his hand by way of reservation.

"Nobunaga," Uvo barked (thankfully claiming his best friend as Nobunaga was the only one who would be able to tolerate sharing with him.)

"Shalnark, who are you sharing with?" Machi called out over her shoulder as the man himself appeared hauling his suitcase through the door with a great deal of huffing and puffing.

"Umm... Franklin, probably, when he gets here," he said breathlessly. "To be honest, I'm not that bothered who I share with."

His expression shifted from relief at having finally managed to make it through the door to despair when he noticed the twisting, dizzy height of the staircase. "Oh dear, look at those stairs. Are we going to have to drag these things up there?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Shal. Daddy'll handle it," Uvo said, with a wolfish grin, thumbing his chest in what he no doubt believed to be a manly gesture.

"Then you can fuck off and get started," Feitan snapped, still sore from the short stuff comment.

"Well, we don't know where we're sleeping yet, so we should maybe leave the cases in a downstairs room just now?" Shalnark suggested, sensibly.

"Alright, so I'll just dump them in here!" Uvo decided, pointing to a door on their left. "Problem solved!"

With large, hairy hands the size of dustbin lids, Uvo leaned over, grabbed Shalnark's case and began to assemble a towering pile of all the luggage that had made it so far.

"Where're the others? They're taking ages," Machi asked.

"Oh, a wheel came off Shizuku's case," Shalnark replied. "Nobu's insisting on trying to fix it. I said if it's not done in five minutes, I'm sending Uvo."

"Good," Machi said, with an evil smile. "With Uvo out the way, that means we can pick the best rooms. Come on," she added, heading for the stairwell. "Let's get to it."

Their feet had just hit the stairwell when Uvo's voice came roaring from the other room.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'M RAIDING THE FRIDGE AND TAKING FUCKING EVERYTHING. I'M NOT JOKING!"

Machi and Shalnark fought to stifle their laughter and Feitan sighed, irritated, as they trudged back down the narrow hallway and made a left into a spacious reception room (slightly less spacious with their luggage stacked in a teetering heap by the window). A huge working fireplace gaped like a dark, yawning maw upon the far wall. Machi could tell it was real because someone had recently piled logs in it, which were charred and crumbling into the grate. The room carried the faint, acrid tang of wood-smoke. She noticed Shalnark checking out the fireplace too with a look of surprise and delight and knew he was looking forward to using it as much as she was. Feitan, however, was more concerned with the grotesque, desiccated curios that crowded the glass display cabinets. The gnarled human hands; slick, slithering eyeballs in polished phials; shrunken heads with tufts of bloody, matted hair; the piles of human teeth and broken bones left Machi in no doubt she had stepped into a Zoldyck property. She wondered what other secrets the house held and felt excited that she would have the chance to find out.

"You found the kitchen, Uvo?" she called out.

"Yeah," he said, striding into the reception room and throwing himself down so hard on the grey sofa that Shalnark bounced and the springs squealed. "And here's a note from that Zoldyck guy we're renting from. You guys had better read it. There's some kids coming here, or something."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Feitan said in disbelief. "Give it here!"

Folding it twice, Uvo tossed the note to Feitan who snatched it out of the air with an impatient hand. Unfolding it, he began to read aloud.

"Greetings, Tenants," Feitan read, muttering, "oh that's nice," under his breath. "I am Illumi Zoldyck and this is my home in York New which I use as a base whenever a job comes up in the area. Welcome. I apologise for not being able to receive you in person, but I am currently engaged on commission in the Republic of Padokea, though I expect to be back by tomorrow afternoon.

"In this house there are four bathrooms, which I insist are kept clean and tidy— ha, no more shaving your back in the tub, Uvo, you disgusting prick— and six bedrooms; five of which are available. The room on the top floor is presently occupied by Hisoka. Depending on when you arrive, I expect you will meet him before long. He asked me to inform you that if you touch his chocolate or his cheese in the fridge, he will break your arms. He also asked me to say hello.

"Hello.

"There are two bedrooms on the second floor, two on the first floor and another in the basement— ah, shit, we'll have to share, won't we?— and a kitchen, which I am certain you will have already found unless Hisoka has moved this note. There is also a gym, a laundry room and a games room in the basement. Aside from the kitchen, on the ground floor, you will find the reception room and a lounge, which has a full-subscription to all the desirable television channels that people appear to appreciate these days. Just off the kitchen is a larder in which I keep poisons and such. I do not advise you venture inside without gloves.

"You will find my bedroom on the fourth floor and my study on the first floor. The latter is where the router is currently kept. There are multiple signal boosters throughout the property, so please do not complain that the signal is patchy. It is not. My brother Milluki, an obese shut-in who enjoys and understands computers, has subjected it to rigorous testing and has found it to be more than satisfactory. The password for the wi-fi is: aksjdbf88839fhvbvms!sd39485u739485803fnsdlknsdfks. I am sure that, in time, you will be able to recall it as easily as I.

"Outside is a small garden with various sorts of extraneous, wooden furniture and aesthetically positive plants arranged such as to please visiting smokers. About two months ago, Hisoka purchased a swing set and installed it at the bottom of the garden next to the barbecue. I am not sure how much use you might get out of either at the moment, as the onset of Winter is imminent. Hisoka seems to enjoy it, so I suppose some of you may also enjoy it.

"There are only three rules:

"One: you break it, you pay for it. Two: my younger brother, Killua, arrives home every day from school during term time and brings a few friends from the York New Academy Gaming Society. He will be back a little later than usual tonight. I cannot recall exactly why. Something to do with a tournament. You lay a finger on my brother or upset him in any way and I will not only evict you, I will eviscerate you. Three: rent is 200,000 Jenny a month and I expect it to be paid promptly and without fuss. Do not make me ask for it.

"Aside from that, my warmest welcome to all of you and I hope you find your accommodation satisfactory.

"Illumi."

There was a short pause, during which the four troupe members shot each other significant looks. Then Shalnark said, "Wow. He sounds nice."

"Yeah, a real friendly guy," Uvo snorted.

"Do you wanna go set fire to his bed?" Feitan suggested.

"Nah, we'd better not. We've only just got here," Shalnark, the voice of reason, replied.

"Ah, shame."

"Guys, as much as the idea of torching Illumi Zoldyck's bed appeals to me," Machi began, struggling to heave herself from the ridiculously comfortable sofa she had sunk into, "we should go get the others and organise where we're sleeping."

"Good idea," Feitan asserted. "Then, if we're in our rooms, we can stay inside and just ignore the kids when they get here."

"Brilliant. Sounds like a plan," Machi said briskly. "Come on, let's go scout the place out."

oOo

Two hours later, the kids were a no-show and Machi found herself sitting up on her half of the bed in her new room on the third floor, playing on her phone. The guys and Shizuku were all downstairs, Uvo having found the state-of-the-art training gym and the rest having found the Joystations and the copy of Greed Island. The roar of the shower from the en-suite ceased and a few moments later, Paku emerged wearing a wide smile, her tattered bathrobe and one of Illumi's expensive, fluffy towels wrapped round her hair.

Sighing contentedly, Paku fell onto the bed, arms outstretched and snuggled into the impossibly comfortable duvet.

"Machi, this place..."

"I know," she said with a smile.

"It's beautiful. It's the place of my dreams."

"It is pretty nice."

"You should call the boss and thank him. I mean really. This morning we couldn't afford a night in the Journey Lodge. Now we're here. I can hardly believe it."

"I know, I was just about to, actually," Machi replied, thumbing back to the home screen and searching her contacts for Chrollo. "Since you're here, you can tell him yourself."

With a grin, she offered the phone to Paku, who took it with an equally wide grin, hit the call button, swung her legs out of bed and began to pace in front of the bay window that provided a view onto the leafy street below.

Paku's soft voice washed over Machi as she let her eyes close, the worry and stress of the last two weeks seeming a distant memory. God this bed was comfortable. She really hoped Illumi's kid brother didn't show up and spoil everything. Did the kid even live here, or what? Illumi hadn't mentioned anything about it in the letter. And they'd have to meet that Hisoka guy tomorrow, probably. They'd found his room on the top floor (not hard: there was a sign on it that said "Hisoka's Room 3") and had tried to break in to rummage around his stuff. To the troupe's dismay, however, they had discovered the guy had set a nen lock on it that forbade entry to all but the caster. All they had learned about him was that he seemed to use a lot of hairspray. The fumes seeped out under the gap in the door and saturated the top floor landing, catching the back of everyone's throats.

"Hi, boss. How're you?" she heard Paku say cheerfully. "Good. I'm fine. Yeah, it's a really nice place. Thanks so much for talking to Illumi for us. No, we haven't met him yet. He's working in Padokea just now. His little brother was meant to be here, but— What? He's at a movie with his friends? Oh, okay. Does he live here? Oh, right. So he'll be back later then. What? How do you know when they'll be back?" Machi opened her eyes. There was a worried note in Paku's tone that had not been present before.

"Y-Yes, I'm just out the shower. How do you know that?" she continued.

Paku whirled round to face the window. Then her jaw dropped in delighted surprise and her hand flew to her mouth. She managed a weak little wave.

In a trice, Machi was on her feet and at Paku's side.

The boss was across the street, standing at the window on the third floor of the house opposite. He held a phone to his ear and he was waving.

"W-What are you doing over there?" Paku managed eventually.

"Ask him if he's working," Machi demanded.

"Are you working—? Oh, _we're_ working? Are you with Franklin? _And_ Bolenov? Wait, what do you mean we're all working?"

Paku fell silent for a moment as she listened intently to the boss, occasionally nodding.

"Right, okay," she said, at length. "I'll tell Machi. We'll meet you at Menchi's Deli tomorrow morning at ten... wherever that is. No, it's alright. We'll find out where it is. Okay. Bye then."

The curtains across the street snapped closed and the boss vanished from view. Pakunoda stared out the window, then turned to Machi, blinking, as though she didn't quite know what had happened.

"Our money troubles are sorted," she said quietly.

"I heard you say we were all working?"

"The Zoldycks have hired us."

"What?" Machi said, in utter disbelief. "What the hell could they want with us? They're assassins. They're the ones who kill for cash."

"It's nothing like that," Paku said, as she drew their own curtains closed. "They just want us to keep an eye on Illumi. Apparently, he's been behaving strangely and they want to know why. Hasn't been home for ages. Family problems, or something. Silva and Zeno Zoldyck are paying our rent and our 'fee' through the boss, who's paying Illumi for us to stay here, and Illumi is also paying the boss right now to spy on his kid brother. Naturally, the boss can't do both jobs at the same time because the kid's pretty tricky, so the Zoldycks have agreed to let us handle Illumi."

Machi shook her head, impressed by the boss's devious cunning. He had obviously managed to convince Illumi to let them live here under the pretext of payment for prior services rendered, but this in itself had been organised long before by the boss and the elder Zoldycks. Interesting.

"They're basically paying us a fortune to do nothing but live here," Machi said, before qualifying, "well, that and tailing our landlord."

"Sounds okay, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, should be," Machi mused. "If he's an assassin like them, llumi could be a problem, but he has no reason to suspect us. I wonder why they want us to keep an eye on him?"

"Beats me. The boss asked, but they never said. They just want regular reports of what he does when he's in York New City. Who he's with, where he goes, what he does when he's not working. That sort of thing."

"And they can't do that themselves?"

"I guess not."

"Weird," Machi said, stifling a yawn as she stretched her tired arms. "But then who am I to argue with easy money. Is that really all we have to do?"

"Seems like it. The boss will probably update us tomorrow," Paku replied, moving over to the dresser upon which her battered old hairdryer sat, the cord patched up with desperate wads of electrical tape. "You don't mind if I use the hairdryer just now, do you? You looked as though you were about to fall asleep earlier."

"Ha, I was," Machi admitted with a sheepish laugh. "It's... been a long day. And no, go ahead. Your hair never takes long, anyway. I'm going to head down and get a glass of water then hit the hay. Got to be fresh to meet the boss in the morning. Make sure the rest of them get some sleep, eh?"

With a huge smile, she sighed contentedly, already thinking about the huge, comfortable bed and how wonderful it would be to get a good night's sleep, and added, "I don't think anything's going to be able to wake me tonight. But if anything does," she said, cracking her knuckles, a roguish glint in her eyes, "there's gonna be hell to pay."

oOo

Drifting in and out, upon the cusp of consciousness, there was a faint clatter and a bang that came from somewhere far away.

Machi's eyes snapped open. She felt a moment's panic before remembering that she was with the rest of the troupe in Illumi Zoldyck's huge townhouse in York New City.

The curtains were drawn tight, but the glow from the streetlamps outside filtered through a narrow slit where the heavy black drapes met, causing a thin dart of vivid light to slash straight down the opposite wall. There was a clock on the bedside cabinet that read 04:48. Beside her, Paku slept soundly, breathing deeply, muttering nonsense to herself.

"Paku?" Machi whispered, nudging her friend. "Did you hear that?"

"Mmmnrf," Paku replied, her brow furrowing with vague irritation as she swatted at Machi's arm.

"Paku?" Machi tried again, more insistent.

Nothing.

She sighed and sat up. Letting her head fall into her hands, she thought hard for a while. Then, very carefully so as not to wake Paku, she stole out of bed and crept across to where Uvo had dumped her luggage. Unzipping the case, she rummaged around in the dark until she found her gloves. It always made manoeuvring her wires that much simpler.

Gloves on, she squeezed though the gap in the half-open door and crept out onto the landing.

In the hall, there was no light aside from that which shone through the front door and cast a dim, eerie glow that barely illuminated the winding stairwell. Step by step, she moved stealthily downwards, hugging the wall, her bare feet making not a sound upon the thick grey carpet. The anemic meagre light caught the edges of tarnished frames holding portraits of the Zoldyck family. Even without the sinister, shadowy atmosphere of a strange house at four in the morning, the Zoldycks were still a creepy-looking bunch.

When she reached the ground floor, however, Machi saw something that made her stop in her tracks.

"What the hell?" she whispered, her face wrinkling in puzzlement.

Someone had come into the house and had dumped all their clothes at the front door. A pair of fierce black stiletto heels had been kicked off, fired in opposite directions. One had landed by the phone, the other had tumbled halfway down the basement stairs. An opulent coat – black with an extravagant bright pink fur collar – lay pooled in a heap on the welcome mat. A little way away, a sleeveless top lay similarly abandoned.

She wondered suddenly if this was Hisoka. Both Illumi and the boss had said he worked nights, and to be honest, the clothes looked like they belonged to someone who worked nights.

Following the trail of discarded clothes, Machi walked through the reception room, not bothering to disguise her steps.

As she drew closer, she could make out the sound of someone humming cheerfully in a low voice and the yellow, flickering half-light of an open fridge door.

"Hello?" she ventured, as she peered round the kitchen door, giving it a knock to let whoever was in know she was there.

"Hi. Just want to—OH MY GOD—" she blurted out, reeling in horror as her hands flew to her mouth.

There was a man standing tall and proud in front of the fridge. He was at least six foot, with broad shoulders, rippling muscles, pale skin and a shock of wavy red hair sprayed into an eccentric style that made him look as though someone had just struck a really ripped match.

And he was stark, bollock naked.

Her cheeks blazing with embarrassment, Machi stumbled backwards, holding her hands out to block the view of the weird, naked man whose junk was glowing in the light of Illumi Zoldyck's massive fridge.

"F-Fucking hell!" she stuttered angrily. "Will you stop waving that thing around? Put something on for god's sake!"

"Oh. Sorry," the man said, not sounding sorry at all. "Are you one of the new tenants?"

"_Yes!_" she hissed, trying to peek through her fingers as she could hear the man shuffling around and didn't want him coming too close, then thinking better of it as she caught another glimpse of his arse.

"You're shy," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "Is this the first time you've seen a naked man? You should look. Take advantage. People usually pay for the privilege."

"Just put some fucking pants on," she growled, her hand now covering her eyes.

Machi heard him sigh. There was a rustling of fabric as the man, presumably, complied.

"Ah, never mind," he said playfully. The rustling stopped. "You can uncover your eyes now."

Carefully, as it was safest to remove only one at a time, she uncurled her rigid fingers from her eyes, allowing herself to see. Thank god, she thought. The man was standing by the cupboards next to the kettle, wearing a pair of loose, light grey trousers. Still nothing on top, but any clothing at all was a definite improvement. Machi sighed with relief.

"I take it you're Hisoka?" she said.

The man beamed. "Correct. And you are?"

"Machi," she replied, as Hisoka switched on the kettle and skipped across the room to turn on the lights. She screwed her eyes shut with a pained expression as the sudden brightness overwhelmed her. It was really difficult to keep track of the guy when he kept being naked and randomly turning on lights without warning.

"Sorry," Hisoka said again. "Just blink a few times and your eyes will accustom themselves to the glare."

"Yeah, I know how light works," Machi muttered.

"Really? That's more than most scientists," Hisoka teased.

With a needless flourish, he spun on his heel and gestured first to the kettle, then to the large, square table that took up most of the room in the back half of the kitchen. "Care to join me for some tea? You might as well, since you're up. I was just about to make some."

"Yeah... sure," Machi grunted, blinking owlishly as she trudged over to the table and sat down, the light still stinging her eyes.

A minute later, Hisoka set a warm mug of tea in front of her with a winning smile and sat down in the chair opposite. With the lights on, she noticed that his eyes were a really weird colour. A yellowish colour. Like a wolf's, or a cat's, or one of those crazy-looking lemurs you saw on wildlife shows. He kept staring at her as he stirred his tea and he made quite the show of licking the spoon.

Not wanting to sustain eye contact in case he got the wrong idea, as she spoke, Machi divided her gaze between Hisoka's face, the knots in the table's wood-grain, and the bamboo pattern painted on the beautiful stone tea mug she held tightly in her hands.

"So, how do you know Illumi?" Hisoka asked, pleasantly.

"We don't," she replied shortly, taking a sip of her tea. "Our boss knows him. He did a job for him not that long ago and I think Illumi's letting us live here as payment. Not rent-free," she hastened to add. "The boss is paying him. Actually, I'm not really sure what the arrangement is," she feigned, not wanting to let Hisoka know the true reason they were here. "We're just here. We'll probably meet Illumi tomorrow."

"Yes, he should be back," Hisoka mused. "He messaged me and said he'd be on the early flight from Dentora. He shouldn't be too long, in fact. A couple of hours at most."

"Which one is he on the stairs?" Machi asked, referring to the family portraits that lined the walls.

"Very long black hair."

"Oh, the one with the creepy eyes?"

Hisoka pouted. "So unkind, Machi," he remonstrated, though there was a glint in his weird, yellow eyes that betrayed amusement.

"Yeah, I suppose I shouldn't say that about our landlord," Machi admitted, which elicited a smirk from Hisoka.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him," he reassured, though Machi didn't know about that. From the note he'd left them, he didn't seem like the friendliest guy to ever walk.

"So... now, don't take this the wrong way or anything," Machi began, feeling that this particular issue needed to be addressed, "but do you do that naked thing regularly?" Hisoka raised his eyebrows, and Machi began to stutter. "I-I mean, I just want to know so I can warn everyone not to come downstairs at four in the morning. Not that I want to watch, or anything. God no."

Hisoka threw back his head and laughed, one hand spread over his face to let his eyes peek out between the gaps in his long fingers. It was only then that Machi spotted his nails, painted a powder blue and filed into wicked points. His laugh was weird too, Machi noticed. It was sort of, inhaley.

"Mmm... only occasionally when the mood takes me," he confessed eventually, after he had stopped laughing. "I forgot you were arriving, or I wouldn't have. It's not the best way to make a first impression. Memorable, though, no?" he added, with a suggestive wink.

Machi felt her cheeks redden again and buried her face in her teacup, seeking refuge from Hisoka's unrelenting gaze.

"Yeah, memorable. That's a nice way of putting it," she muttered into the mug, her voice echoing. "Sorry we've spoiled your... downtime."

"Don't worry about it," Hisoka replied amiably. "I'm sure I can find lots of other ways to entertain myself now. Especially now that such a pretty face has appeared to tempt me."

What the hell? Machi thought, as she stared blankly across the table at Hisoka. Was he serious? She couldn't really tell. He was smirking, but there was a strange look playing about his eyes that seemed calculating. She knew she would have to cut their impromptu meeting short.

With a polite cough, she rose and pushed her chair back, signalling their conversation was at very definite end.

"Look, I'm really tired," she said frankly. "It's been a long day and I'm going to go back to bed for a bit. It was nice meeting you, Hisoka. Thanks for the tea."

Hisoka smiled and said nothing.


	2. Choking Teenagers

Hard Times

* * *

Ice LunaWolf and HunterXZain, thanks for being cool and reviewing. Some other cool people faved: Bellz. Sparky, GAZERocK6Gun5, LalaThePurpleShadow, Ria D'Arcy, Stormcloudalchemist and Ice LunaWolf. Thanks for those too. : )

* * *

- chapter two -

Choking Teenagers

* * *

"Good, we're all here. Thanks for coming," the boss said as Feitan and Phinks pulled up a chair each.

They had been the last to leave the house, as the troupe had decided to move in groups so as not to attract suspicion. Machi wasn't sure who exactly this plan was supposed to fool, as Illumi hadn't shown up yet, Hisoka was still in bed, and the kids, apparently, had left for school. Still, she had gone along with it for a quiet life and had crammed herself into a booth in Menchi's deli with the rest of the troupe.

After saying hi and taking a few moments to catch up with Franklin, Kortopi and Bolenov (including being forced to recount, yet again, her embarrassing run-in with Hisoka) the boss had got straight down to business.

"I'm assuming Paku has given you the run-down on this job," the boss said, smiling slightly. "Not the most difficult we've ever undertaken, admittedly, but it could be one of the more sensitive."

"Yeah, Machi told us this morning that the Zoldycks think Illumi's been acting weird, or something," Phinks said, as he removed the pickles from his sandwich and gave them to Uvo, who began to toss them and catch them in his mouth one-by-one. "Basically, we've to keep an eye on him and see if he's acting weird or if he _is_ just weird."

"And Illumi's paid you to spy on Killua, though that's a completely different commission," Feitan added. "Why, though? The kid seemed alright when we met him last night. What's the deal there?"

"About four years ago, when he was still living on Kukuroo Mountain, Killua threw a fit during training one day," the boss explained. "According to Illumi, Killua was jealous of him because he had been allowed to take some time out to run the Big Underground Triple Marathon in Zaban City for no other reason than that he wanted to. After the marathon, Illumi stayed on for a bit, had a bit of fun, then came back. Killua wanted to have a bit of fun too. He was only twelve and he wanted to go to school and make some friends. Naturally, due to their line of work his family refused, so he ran away to York New City and stole four million Jenny from their account to enrol in York New High School."

"Ha, I like his style," Franklin said.

"There was a fierce argument and his family put rather a lot of pressure on him to return home, but Killua wouldn't budge. Eventually, the Zoldycks capitulated and he was allowed to stay in York New as long as he was willing to tolerate living with Illumi. The arrangement was viewed as a minor indulgence. Temporary. They thought Killua would quickly grow tired of it."

"But he's still there," Machi finished, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"Indeed," the boss confirmed. "By report, Killua has committed the cardinal sin of making friends and enjoying himself. To the Zoldycks' horror, he has thrust himself into any and all social and extra-curricular activities and has participated in a wide variety of sports and teams. He gets excellent marks in all his exams and is the co-founder of the York New High School Gamers' Society, which, due to their team being the first to clear Greed Island, has proven something of a success, as the society have recently extended their membership to outsiders."

"Yeah, they were trying to recruit us last night," Shalnark said, laughing. "We said we'd think about it."

"Excellent. Then I think you should join," the boss said. "It would certainly make my life easier and should facilitate the process of keeping tabs on Killua when he's at home, which I haven't been able to do before all of you arrived."

"Not a problem, boss," Shalnark answered. "I'll ask him again tonight when he gets in and we'll take him up on the offer this time. Should be fun."

"So, what are we doing with this Killua kid?" Paku asked again. "Are we really just keeping an eye on him?"

"Observe, report to me and I will report to Illumi in turn," the boss clarified. "He just wants to know what his brother does. I hypothesise that Illumi, and perhaps the rest of the Zoldycks, do not look kindly upon Killua's flourishing social life. Assassins are not meant to have friends. I suppose they want to monitor the state of his attachments in case Killua becomes too close to anyone."

"Okay, that sounds easy enough," Nobunaga mused, scratching his chin. "What's this thing with Illumi about then?"

"Ah, well, I have an illustration right here," the boss said as he dug around in his coat pockets. He fished out a few old photographs and slapped them on the table. The troupe leaned over to peer short-sightedly at them.

"This one here," the boss said, pointing to an old Polaroid, "was taken when Illumi was about seventeen. Kalluto, the youngest, is standing in front of him with the bob and the red shirt. Then there's Illumi's mother, Kikyo, who is holding Killua. I can't recall the name of the one running off in the background. Not that it matters, I suppose, as Illumi did say that no one likes him and he's not allowed out."

"Ha, look at Killua," Shizuku laughed. "So cute! You could just pinch his little cheeks."

"And I'm guessing the one on the end is the fat, nerdy brother Illumi mentioned in the welcome note?" Machi guessed.

The boss nodded. "Correct. Illumi is standing at the back. Short hair, blue jacket, green shirt, slacks. In your opinion, Illumi appears a fairly normal seventeen year-old, yes?"

They all nodded and murmured in assent.

"Then look at this recent photo," the boss said, sliding a rather different picture into view.

"Fucking hell," Nobu breathed.

"Yes, he looks quite different, doesn't he? Over the course of a few months, so the Zoldycks report, Illumi went from short hair, shirts and slacks to crop tops, bandages, long feminine hair, painted nails and slippers."

"When did this happen?" Machi asked.

"Zeno said he could date the change pretty confidently to after Illumi had returned from the Zaban Marathon."

"I guess the little bit of freedom went to his head, huh?" Shalnark said, amusedly.

"Perhaps, though the Zoldycks suspect there is something amiss," the boss answered. "Illumi has been evasive, extends only the minimal necessary courtesy when dealing with his family, spends more and more time at his York New home and consequently less at Kukuroo Mountain, though he insists he still loves and respects his family. They believe he is hiding something from them, though they cannot begin to speculate what exactly," the boss concluded. "You have been hired to find out."

"Seriously? This should be easy," Feitan said. "We just have to do a bit of digging."

"Yeah, but if the Zoldycks don't know what's up with him, how are we gonna find out?" Phinks argued.

"You forget we're living with him now," Feitan replied, with a nasty smile. "When you live with someone, it doesn't matter what weird fetishes, irritating habits, or how many dirty, little secrets you have. They always end up oozing out somehow. It's all just a matter of time."

"Definitely," Uvo agreed, with a nod and a wolfish grin. "Don't worry boss. While he's in York New, he won't be able to scratch his ass without us knowing about it. We'll get him for you. You can count on it."

"Um... we also kinda need money for food," he added, after a considered pause. The rest of the troupe nodded vigorously in assent. "Like, literally, there is nothing in the fridge apart from the crazy guy's cheese. Could... could you maybe lend us some Jenny?"

oOo

They were unpacking the food from the MegaMart bags when Illumi finally appeared.

As Nobunaga and Phinks' argument over whether the Schmickers bars should go in the fridge or in the cupboard with the Moreos escalated to a point where Machi was seriously contemplating intervention, the front door opened and closed with a bang. There was a thump as someone dropped several heavy bags onto the floor in the hall, followed by a long, heartfelt sigh of relief.

Machi and the troupe exchanged looks. There was a brief moment, she knew, where the option of ignoring Illumi had been entertained, but she also knew, equally, that the troupe were aware of the consequences of ignoring their new landlord and how such a calculated snub could affect the outcome of the job. In hard times, every little helped. Money was top priority, and right now, this was all they had.

There was nothing else for it.

They would have to introduce themselves.

With sighs, irritated tuts, eye-rolling and hands jammed moodily into pockets, Machi and the troupe sauntered out the kitchen, through the reception room and into the hall to meet Illumi Zoldyck.

They found him standing at the bottom of the staircase, leaning backwards over the banister as he stared up through the spiralling gap that spanned four floors.

"Um, hi," Shalnark said, thus electing himself spokesperson.

Illumi turned, and the troupe, as a unit, stared.

Illumi Zoldyck was tall and thinly built. He wore a black wool coat, nipped in tight at the waist, with a full skirt that draped below his knees. His black, heeled boots were smartly polished and tucked into black breeches in a manner that reminded Machi of Hisoka, and his nails, painted to match, were filed to rounded points. His long, black hair hung down his back and contrasted markedly with his pale skin.

What really made the troupe stare, however, were Illumi's eyes.

They were overlarge, almond-shaped, absolutely pitch black and stared out of his pale, impassive face. His thin brows that sat high on his forehead were trained in perfect arches. These features coalesced to create the unfortunate impression, in Machi's opinion, that Illumi was either perpetually surprised, high, or in a state of permanent wonder.

Thinking the former, the troupe looked over their shoulders to see what might have shocked their landlord. Finding nothing, they turned back, wearing bemused expressions.

"God, man, what's wrong with your eyes?" Uvo barked, after an awkward pause.

Illumi's brow furrowed in puzzlement and he cocked his head to one side as he asked, "What do you mean? Is there something wrong with my eyes?"

As Illumi walked over to the mirror to inspect his reflection, Machi kicked Uvo hard on the ankle and gave him a warning glare when he had the temerity to look affronted. Then she hissed in Nobu's ear to wipe that horror-stricken grimace off his face because they had to be nice to Illumi.

She couldn't blame them, though. Illumi did have intensely creepy eyes. She had seen his portrait, but it was worse in person, and she had to resist the urge to cringe when Illumi pulled his lids up and began to poke around his eyes.

"Ah? There's nothing wrong with them," Illumi concluded, turning to face them once again. "Not that I can see. What do you think's wrong with them?"

Machi's eyes burned the back of Uvo's head, and she could see him crumbling under the pressure as he scratched his arm sheepishly, desperate to find something to say. At length, he managed to stutter out, "N-Nothing. They're just... really... um... pretty. Yeah. Really... pretty." Then he attempted to smile and managed a compromise between a grimace and a wince.

"Oh. Thank you. What was your name again?" Illumi said, disinterestedly.

"Uvogin. But everyone calls me Uvo."

"Hello, Uvo," Illumi said. "I would offer you my hand, but I think you might break it. You're very big, aren't you? How on earth did you manage to get so big? You must eat all the time."

"Yup," Uvo replied, brightening up. "Combination of good genes and eight meals a day. Workout pretty much twenty-four seven." Machi caught him flexing and rolled her eyes.

"Have you tried the gym yet?"

Uvo nodded. "Yeah. Your equipment's awesome. Did a bit of sparring with Nobu on the mat. Fucking schooled him. There's even enough weights for me. Wasn't expecting that, to be honest."

"Oh, good. That's nice to hear," Illumi said, in a manner that made Machi convinced he didn't care in the slightest. It wasn't anything like sarcasm, for that would have required a level of intent and planning. No. This guy was more like a robot going through the motions of social niceties. And it showed. She shivered. God, how long would they have to live in the same house? First crazy, naked Hisoka on the top floor and now this? Was it even worth the money?

Illumi turned and stared at them (or plain looked; it was hard to tell) and she had to step on Paku's foot to prevent her backing away.

"Now, if the rest of you would be so kind as to introduce yourselves, I will set about remembering your names and faces," Illumi announced. "It won't take me long. I am very well-practised at identifying and recalling names and faces at a—"

From upstairs, there was a huge bang as a door slammed shut, followed by the distant rumbling of footsteps thundering down the stairs.

With unnatural grace, Illumi skipped across the floor, leapt atop the thin iron banister and peered through the gap that spanned all the way from the bright skylight on the roof to the shadowy basement below.

"Oh my," Illumi said, his eyes widening, as they all craned their necks to look upstairs. "It's Hisoka. Have you met Hisoka yet? My, isn't he running fast?"

That was an understatement. Hisoka was powering down the stairs, his jaw firmly set, wearing a look of terrifying, steely determination. Already at the first floor, he leapt clear at least twelve steps, landed and rounded the final bend before charging down the stairs towards them, his silly turquoise trousers flapping in the wind of his wake. He had clearly only just got out of bed, as he was also wearing a silly, turquoise pyjama shirt. His hair wasn't sprayed into an elaborate fuck you to gravity and instead hung about his face in dishevelled waves.

"Hello, Hisoka," Illumi called out, pleasantly. "Are you late for something?"

Ignoring Illumi completely, Hisoka leapt clear of the final steps and sprinted past him so fast he whipped up tendrils of Illumi's long hair before wrenching the door open and pounding down the street at such a speed Machi lost sight of him in seconds.

There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at the front door that lay, battered and bruised from being so violently forced open.

Then Nobunaga nudged Uvo and muttered, "At least he has some clothes on, eh?"

As Uvo and Nobunaga snorted and chortled like a pair of gormless frat boys, there came a beep from Illumi's phone that made them start.

Whipping out his phone (which was crammed to the corners with so much sugary, sparkling deco it looked as though you could develop diabetes by simply touching it), Illumi stared at the screen. His eerie, black eyes widened. Then, without warning, he whipped round with the bewildering speed of a striking snake and charged out of the door after Hisoka.

"The actual fuck—?" Phinks muttered, bewildered.

There was a moment during which Machi and the rest of the troupe stared, blinking, wondering what the hell had just happened. This sorry state of affairs lasted for only a moment, however. Their instincts kicking in, knowing there was a job to be done, knowing that if they gave chase, there was a very good chance they could find out and wring some cold, hard cash from the Zoldycks in the process, Feitan caught her eye and she nodded.

"You guys sit tight," Feitan said with relish. "Machi and I'll tail them. Shal, you let the boss know what's up. Nobu, you cover us. If they get back here before us and they wonder where we are, say we went back to the MegaMart because the bitch at the checkout short-changed us."

oOo

Autumn in York New was always beautiful. It was the time of year when the opulent surrounds of York New High School were always presented in their best light.

The wan afternoon sunlight cast a lazy glow over the school campus, seeming hardly able to summon the strength to peek over the science building's red-tiled roof. Red and ochre leaves, shed and cast adrift, had blown in on the wind and had scattered themselves across the grassy quad. It was peaceful too, as most of the students were in class.

Most of the students.

As the clock in the tower struck twelve, Killua Zoldyck looked up at the sound of swaggering, shambling footsteps crossing the quad. It was the Amori brothers, right on time, just as they said they'd be.

Walking in front was Umori, the overlarge, shuffling gorilla with large, ham-fists and a ridged, atavistic brow. Amori followed closely behind, the sneakier, cleverer one; the manipulator and encourager who pinned their victims while Umori punched. Then came Imori, small and skinny, his little legs working hard to keep pace with his brothers' long strides. Imori, the youngest, was weak; a poor excuse for a bully who hung on his brothers' coat-tails. The only thing he was good for was calling people names, though only when his brothers were around to hide behind.

They'd obviously just cut class as Imori was frantic, rummaging around in his backpack looking for his stupid hat, so he could put it on and act tough just like his idiot brothers.

Killua smirked, then realised he was supposed to be pretending to be at least uninterested, so he ironed his face into an expression he hoped conveyed the right mixture of boredom and arrogance and stepped out from the shadows of the cloisters into the weak Autumn sunlight.

"Yo," he said, holding up a hand in greeting as three gormless heads whipped round, wearing identical, gormless grins as they realised who had called on them. "You guys wanted to see me? Make it quick, will you? I have track in ten minutes and Coach Bisky'll kill me if I'm late again."

"Shut up, Zol_dick_!" Umori grunted, as he rumbled towards Killua and bumped into him, jarring his shoulder, sending his schoolbag toppling to the ground. "You'll stay however long we want you to stay."

"Oh? You're not worried about missing anything?" Killua replied, innocently. "You should. Wing-sensei said if you fail again this year, you're out. You guys are way too stupid to cram, so you should maybe think twice about—"

With a lurch, the world shifted as Umori grabbed him by the collar with his large hands, lifted him clean off his feet and pinned him roughly against one of the tall, sandstone cloister pillars. As Killua looked down into Umori's small, beady black eyes that glinted with the malice of a bully's cunning, he realised that the effect of his words may have been more spectacular than he had intended.

"_Hey!"_ a voice rang out suddenly, clear and bright and suffused with a brilliant, but barely suppressed fury. "_Let him go, Umori, or I'll kick your ass!"_

Finally, Killua thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Gon. No matter what, he always had to make a melodramatic entrance. All those recent public fights in the ring Coach Bisky had arranged attended by screaming, baying audiences and adoring crowds of girls were definitely going to his head. Killua snorted.

"Hey, look who it is!" Imori cat-called, over Amori's shoulder. "It's Freaky Freecss! You come to rescue your boyfriend, Freaks?"

As Amori and Umori chuckled at their brother's droll witticism, Gon stormed across the quad, removing his green York New High Letterman jacket and throwing it down on the lawn like an invitation to a duel, exposing the sleeveless black vest he wore to the many sports classes he took. Unlike Killua, who could afford the exorbitant fees, Gon had been accepted on an athletics scholarship, and thus spent most of his time in the sports block, so much so that his spiky black hair had been tinged green from the chlorine in the pool he plunged into at six every morning for two hours of training.

As Gon stomped over, cracking his knuckles, another soft, stealthy sound barely on the cusp of audibility pricked Killua's ears.

Excellent. The plan was working. God, it was so hard to stop himself from smiling.

"You put him down, or I'm serious, Umori, you're gonna get your ass kicked," Gon growled.

"Ha, what are you gonna do?" Amori laughed. "Are you gonna start a fight and get expelled along with your boyfriend? Think you can take us all on, Freaks? Ha, I don't think so. And _you_ can't do anything about it, can you, Zol_dick_? Wing-sensei said the next time you hit back, you're out."

"So prepare for some pain," Umori jeered, as he pulled back one brick-like fist. "This is payback—"

It all happened rather quickly.

Just as Umori was about to move in for the kill, his brainless grin faltered as a well-manicured hand tapped him on the shoulder. As Umori turned, a blistering right-hook connected with his lantern jaw and knocked him out cold, sending him and Killua tumbling to the ground. Rolling through the fall with practised precision, Killua was on his feet in seconds (giving the unconscious Umori a dirty, little kick to the ribs on the way up because he deserved it).

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Killua turned round. His jaw dropped in outrage at the sight of...

"Hisoka?" he shouted suddenly, his jaw still hanging open in utter disbelief, as noticed that Hisoka appeared to think it was perfectly acceptable to be seen in public in turquoise pyjamas and a pair of heels.

"Hi," Hisoka replied, offering him a distracted smile.

What the hell? This was _not_ how it was supposed to go. Had Gon messaged Hisoka? He was supposed to have messaged Illumi! What the hell? What the hell was Gon thinking?

Killua knew that, for some reason, Gon believed that Hisoka was this friendly, funny, awesome guy who did kinda cool magic tricks, dressed weird, fought like a tiger and let Gon spar with him in Illumi's gym, but just this once, Killua wished Gon could see the world through the eyes of someone who didn't take the world at face value and, pending a minor miracle, could therefore realise that Hisoka was actually a beyond crazy, fucking asshole _who was going to ruin everything!_

"Who the hell are you?" he heard Amori yell fearfully. "What have you done to Umori?"

"Hi," Hisoka said, waving coyly at the remaining Amori brothers. "I'm Hisoka. I'm Gon's friend."

"Wha—? What the fuck?" Imori whined, brandishing a finger at Hisoka. "He's not a student, Freecss! He's not supposed to be here! I'm gonna tell Wing-sensei!"

"Oh no, I'm so scared," Hisoka mocked. He began to walk towards them and the brothers fell over themselves trying to back away from him.

"Now, you have ten seconds to tell me why you are so intent on upsetting Gon," Hisoka said, smiling widely. "I'm giving you ten seconds because I don't want him to be late for his next class. If you don't tell me, I will break your legs and I will leave you here twitching until Gon gets back. Then we can try again, hmm?"

When there was no answer but incoherent whimpering from the brothers, Hisoka began his countdown, advancing step by step.

"Now, boys," he admonished gently, "this is ten, do you hear me? After this, you will not get another chance. Now it's nine," he said, taking another step, "... eight... seven... six... five—"

There was a blur, and the next thing Killua knew, Hisoka had grabbed Amori by the neck in one wicked, taloned hand and held him up the air.

"I'm sorry," Hisoka said, smiling sweetly at the struggling Amori, who kicked his legs frantically in the air as he made futile swats at Hisoka's iron bar arm. "I think I might have missed a few numbers. I'm not very good at counting. Maybe I should enrol too? Then I could become a student and beat you to my heart's content—"

Killua saw Hisoka's eyes widen as a small, impossibly sharp object whizzed past his face and hit Amori on the side of the neck. Another one followed immediately after and buried deep into the neck of the cowering Imori with deadly acuity. Killua let out a sigh of relief. At last...

Amori's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled in Hisoka's grip. With a sad, little sigh, as though an adult had taken away his favourite toy, Hisoka released Amori and he went tumbling to the ground next to his brothers, who lay prostrate on the grass, sound asleep.

Illumi emerged from the shadows thrown by the cloisters, polishing a thin, wicked-looking needle, which he jabbed into Umori's neck, just to be thorough, as Umori had been twitching a little and showing signs of waking.

"Illumi!" Gon cheered. "You came!"

Eh? Killua really was bewildered now. Had Gon messaged him after all? Then why was Hisoka here? Nothing made sense.

Gon was beaming at Illumi as though he'd just emerged as the victor of Battle Olympia without a single scratch. Hisoka, however, to Killua's delight, looked put-out.

"I was having fun, Illumi," he accused, pouting as he nudged the prone Amori with his foot. "You spoiled it."

"Sorry, Hisoka, but I can't have you choking anyone in public again," Illumi said, as he knelt to retrieve his needles. "Are you alright, Kil?"

Caught off guard by Illumi's sudden inquiry, Killua scratched his head awkwardly and stuttered, "Y-Yeah. I'm fine. I just let the big one pin me till Gon got here. You know if I'd hit them back, I'd be expelled!"

"And what makes you think you won't be expelled for pulling a ridiculous stunt like this?" a familiar, ominous voice called out, interrupting his conversation with his brother.

Ah, shit...

Trying his best to appear contrite, Killua turned to face Wing-sensei. His head of year was striding across the quad, his face set grimly. In his haste to reach the unconscious Amori brothers (whom Hisoka was in the midst of arranging in questionable positions) his shirt had come untucked and his short, rumpled hair stuck out at odd angles.

"Stop what you're doing this instant!" he shouted, brandishing a finger at Hisoka.

Hisoka stopped attempting to wrap Umori's legs round Imori's head and pointed innocently at himself, as if to say, "Who, me?"

"Yes, you!" Wing-sensei yelled angrily. "Who are you and what have you done to these boys?"

"Don't worry... Wing-san, is it? I just put them to sleep," Illumi said in a bored tone, waving one of his terrifying needles by way of illustration. "They won't remember a thing when they wake up. My name is Illumi, and I am Kil's brother. This is my friend, Hisoka," Illumi added, as Hisoka gave a little wave. "Kil was having a bit of trouble, you see, so I thought I would tend to it. Despite the exorbitant fees it charges, it appears those who are in charge of this establishment are incapable of dealing with such a simple case of harassment."

Silence fell, and Killua cringed. Wing-sensei's hands curled into fists, his arms rigid at his sides. His mouth worked furiously and his nostrils flared, and Killua could see him fighting to calm himself and remain professional in the face of Illumi's calculated insult and his infuriating, impassive gaze.

"I know very well who you are and what you do, Illumi Zoldyck," Wing-sensei managed eventually, his voice tight and wavering with repressed anger, "and let me tell you right here, right now, that I am not afraid of you. You have no right to enter this school without permission and assault my pupils. Whatever problems Killua has may be resolved through non-violent means and conference between the two sides in dispute."

Over Wing's shoulder, Hisoka feigned a yawn, making Gon giggle. Unfortunately, this caught Wing-sensei's eye, and he turned on him, wagging a finger.

"Oh, so you think this is funny, Gon? Do you realise how serious this is? Did you stop to think how this would impact on those other than yourselves? What do you think I am going to say to their parents when they come to pick them up?"

Gon's head dropped in shame and he nodded.

"Oh? Is it an awkward meeting you're looking to avoid?" Illumi questioned, his head tilting to one side. "If that's the case, don't worry. We'll deal with it for you," he said, gesturing to Hisoka, who nodded agreeably. "It's not a problem."

"No!" Wing shrieked suddenly, his arms flailing in a deranged manner, making everyone flinch. "You are not to deal with anything! You have done enough. Just get out!" he ordered, pointing towards the double doors at the end of the cloisters.

Shrugging, Hisoka turned and stalked off, though not before blowing a kiss over his shoulder to the forlorn pile he had made of the Amori brothers and calling out, "Bye, boys! It's been fun!" Illumi followed after, his face utterly expressionless, though when he reached Killua, he stopped, looked down his nose at him and said,

"If you weren't so stubborn and intent on staying at this ridiculous school, this would never have happened," he lectured. "Honestly, Kil. I never thought I would see you brought so low."

His teeth grinding with anger, Killua's eyes burned his brother's back as he swept off after Hisoka. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gon looking concerned, trying to catch his attention. He ignored him. He needed to think. And fast.

Once the intruders were out of sight, Wing-sensei rounded on them.

"Explain yourselves," he demanded, his tone quiet and deadly. "Now."

Throughout the whole sorry circus into which the situation had devolved since Hisoka's unexpected arrival, the wheels of Killua's mind had been turning over and over, running through scenarios, trying to figure out how he could save this. Despite his fury at his brother's words, he had had absolutely nothing with which he could turn things around until Illumi had opened his mouth and unwittingly thrown him a last-minute lifeline. God, he hoped this would work.

Well, there was nothing else for it.

It was time to swallow his pride and lay it on thick.

"W-WING-SENSEI, I'M SORRY!" he wailed, letting his voice ring out in a wavering sob. Gon's head whipped round in surprise and Killua prayed that he would shut up and catch on.

"It- It's my family!" he went on, letting the crocodile tears fall in torrents, punctuating his melodramatic sobs by rubbing his wet nose on the back of his sleeve. "T-They don't want me to be here! You know what they are, right? You know they want me to be an assassin too! Illumi's the worst, Wing-sensei! They _made_ me live with him, even though I don't want to, and he spies on me every day when he's not working, and he has this crazy friend Hisoka who helps him. Seriously, he's really crazy! I mean, you saw him. He was wearing pyjamas and heels and... and he takes drugs all the time."

"I told Gon that the Amori brothers were gonna get me at break and he was worried, so he must've messaged Illumi, and then Illumi came here and did all this on purpose so I can get expelled because my family don't want me to be here!"

With a surge of relief, Killua noticed the cunning spark of realisation in Gon's eyes as his friend put two and two together.

"I'm sorry, Kil!" Gon wailed, just as loudly, his lip trembling. "I messaged Hisoka! I didn't think he'd tell Illumi."

"Gon, you idiot! Hisoka always tells Illumi!" he raged. "You knew that! You shouldn't have messaged him! Now I'm going to get expelled and I'll have to go back to Kukuroo Mountain and live in that horrible house."

"No, you won't! You won't Killua!" Gon insisted, his eyes shining with determination. He turned to Wing-sensei, who looked rather wrong-footed by the sudden display of emotion.

"Please, Wing-sensei," Gon begged, gazing up at their head of year with large, puppy-dog eyes. "Don't expel Killua. It's my fault for messaging Hisoka. His brother's so mean to him, you have no idea. He takes drugs too!"

"Wing-sensei," Killua pleaded, upping the ante by sinking to his knees in prayer and fixing his teacher with a forlorn gaze, "please don't expel me. I-I just want to be normal..."

As soon as he said it, he knew that had been a good one. In that instant, their stern head of year's expression melted into a sad sort of sympathy and Killua had to fight the urge to leap around and pump his fist in glory.

Shaking his head, Wing-sensei sighed in defeat and said, "Very well. We won't speak anymore of this. Is your brother certain that what he used on Amori, Umori and Imori merely puts them to sleep?"

Killua nodded. "Yeah, I've watched him make it loads of times. They'll wake up in about half an hour. They won't remember anything. Just take them along to the nurse's office and when they wake up, you can tell them whatever you want."

"Umori might have a pretty sore face," Gon lied outrageously. "He fell pretty hard when Illumi pinned him."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wing-sensei sighed and said, "Fine. I understand. I will deal with this, though don't think you'll be getting away it. You'll both be doing early morning detention with Satotz-san tomorrow morning—"

"No way! What time? I have swimming training in the morning!" Gon moaned, his face a picture of misery.

"Eight o'clock sharp!" Wing-sensei replied. "And if you're not there, it'll be a week's worth. Now both of you get out of my sight. I don't want to hear another cheep from either of you until this term is over, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Wing-sensei!" they chorused, bowing low, as their head of year stalked off, fumbling for his phone in his pocket. They could hear him muttering darkly to Nurse Sanbica through the handset.

"Hello? Yes. I need a favour. I've got the Amori brothers lying here in the quad. Could you give me a hand—?"

They kept their faces stony and expressionless until Wing-sensei's voice was a faint buzz in the distance. Then Gon turned to him and grinned.

"Killua," he said, his eyes shining. "That was awesome."

"Shh, idiot! He'll hear you," Killua reprimanded, though he couldn't repress the wonderful rush of euphoria that accompanied his victory any longer and returned Gon's grin with an equally wide one of his own.

It had been a close one, but god, that was good.

The only way it could have gone any better was if he could have found a way to fuck over Hisoka too, but he knew he couldn't have everything.

Ha, Illumi was going to be sick if he ever found out.

oOo

Menchi's deli was fast becoming a regular haunt for the troupe. They'd left it around half ten, and by half twelve, they were back again.

Buhara, the big guy who had served them that morning, recognised Machi and Feitan as they walked in and had acknowledged them with a little smile. The boss had been sitting right where they'd left him, tapping away on his laptop, surrounded by empty coffee cups.

It turned out he had seen Hisoka and Illumi charging round the corner towards the school and had been on the point of leaving in pursuit before he had spotted Machi and Feitan tailing them, pretending to be joggers. The boss had been keen to know what had gone on at the school, and Feitan had taken it upon himself to recounting the sordid spectacle he and Machi had witnessed from the roof of the science block, sparing no detail.

"So Hisoka just sort of grabbed him and started choking the kid," Feitan explained, as he recreated the sorry scene by grabbing the squeezy bottle of Menchi's homemade ketchup and throttling it.

"He choked him?" Chrollo said incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

Machi nodded. "Picked the kid up with one hand and started squeezing. Then Illumi arrived and knocked them out. It was probably a good thing. From the look on Hisoka's face, he seemed like he was ready to unleash mayhem."

"Oh? Were you there at the school too?" an ominously familiar voice drifted over their shoulders.

Machi, Feitan and Chrollo turned in time to see Illumi pull up a chair from a vacant table.

Christ, the guy walked like a cat. Not one of them had noticed him enter.

Illumi had clearly ordered something from the counter as Buhara had given him an order slip which was clipped to a little wooden sign with their table number scrawled on both sides with a black marker pen.

"Yes," the boss replied, lying seamlessly. "Our associate Bolenov has found employment as a boxing instructor at York New High School, therefore, through him we are able to keep tabs on any developments that might arise during school hours."

"Oh, that's great. Really great. You certainly do take your work seriously. I'm glad father recommended you," Illumi said, offering a polite nod to Buhara as rumbled over and placed a truly beautiful sandwich in front of him: toasted rye bread crowded with tender slices of salt beef, crunchy pickles, a dash of hot mustard and a soft slice of cheese. Machi's mouth began to water. It smelled delicious.

"Yeah, and we have something to tell you about your precious, little brother," Feitan added, his eyes glinting with malice.

"Oh? What's that?" Illumi inquired, as he stared at Feitan with his strange, overlarge eyes.

"He's playing you," Machi said simply.

"What?"

"He's been in so many fights this year that that guy Wing said he was going to kick him out if he got involved in one more. Those Amori kids knew that, wanted to take advantage, but your darling brother's pride couldn't take the knock of backing down, so he told Gon to message you, knowing you'd come charging straight over to deal with it."

"Except he didn't have your number," Feitan added. "So he messaged the crazy naked guy—"

"Hisoka," Illumi reminded.

"Yeah, Hisoka, whatever," Feitan said, dismissing Illumi's interruption with a wave of a hand, "and he gave Gon your number, asked the kid what was up and when Gon told him, it seems he decided to charge over like an angry, flapping turquoise rhino to fuck some kids up."

"Oh..." Illumi said, placing a long finger to his lips in a pensive manner. "That's... very interesting. Please excuse me..."

There was a rude squawk as Illumi pushed his chair back. Grabbing his sandwich, without another word to either Machi, Chrollo or Feitan, he walked over to the counter and called out to Buhara, requesting a box in order that his delicious sandwich would not suffer through the long, arduous journey all the way round the corner to number forty-four.

Then he walked out, leaving behind him an awkward pause in which Machi, Feitan and Chrollo looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

"Nice guy," Machi said, without a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh yeah. Amazing," Feitan replied.

"Just remember we're being paid," the boss reminded them.

"Yeah? Well, you're not having to live with him and Hisoka, the wandering, naked sex-pest who likes choking teenagers."

"I must admit, it is something of a relief to able to watch you all suffer from a window in the comfort of my own room," the boss replied, with a slight smile, as Machi and Feitan rolled their eyes. "That said, however, I have been contemplating the matter of increasing my presence in number forty-four."

"What? You wanna move in?" Feitan asked. "If you do, you're gonna have to room with Shal. Now that Franklin's with you, he managed to get a huge room to himself, the lucky, little prick—"

"No," the boss answered, as he rummaged in his coat pockets. At length, he found what he was looking for and presented them with what seemed to be a very small, round chip, held between his thumb and index finger. On closer inspection, Machi realised Chrollo had acquired a tiny, wireless camera.

"I have a few of these, one courtesy of Zeno and Silva, the rest courtesy of Kortopi," the boss continued, "and I would like you to put one in Illumi's room."

Feitan and Machi exchanged a look of apprehension.

"Boss, he's an assassin," Feitan sighed, after a moment's consideration. "You know it's not going to be easy. We don't even know when he's working next, and don't you think he checks his room for this kind of stuff?"

"You have until next week," the boss replied, unyielding. "I am sure you can do it. I have every faith in you, and so do the Zoldycks. Milluki Zoldyck has set up the cameras so that they broadcast a wireless signal, which will be receivable only by Milluki. Milluki has in turn kindly granted us access to his network through which we may observe any goings on at number forty-four."

"Great," Machi said, wincing as the boss slid the impossibly small camera across the table.

She shot a look across the table at Feitan and she could tell he was thinking exactly the same thing.

One week?

How in the hell were they going to pull this off?


	3. The Problem with Gon

Hard Times

* * *

–chapter three–

The Problem with Gon

* * *

Slowly becoming a proper fan. Have bought the first seven volumes of the manga and am loving all the extra gore. Hisoka really does like to collect heads, doesn't he?

Ria D'Arcy, Aiko, IceLuna Wolf, ColorlessButterfly and aisecyaj, thanks for being cool and reviewing. Some more cool people faved: Ichibiluva, Latias876 and aisecyaj, so thanks for those too. : )

Oh, and Colourless Butterfly? Wait and see...

* * *

oOo

"—_the important thing is to ensure your eggs are fresh when you pour them into the pan. The key to your success is a firm, fresh white, not a sad, runny mess that has detached from the yolk. If your eggs are not as fresh as they should be, a little vinegar may solve the problem—"_

"I don't know why you think this will help me," Hisoka said sanctimoniously, his voice muffled from the fistful of N&Ns he had just thrown into his mouth. He was sat on the sofa in the lounge, jammed in between Shalnark and Phinks, the hood of his pink dinosaur onesie pulled up over his head. Most of the troupe had crammed into the lounge; those who hadn't managed to elbow their way onto one of the sofas were installed on beanbags they had been forced to buy after too many fights had broken out over who was sitting where. This issue had never proven a problem for Hisoka, though. He tended to just sit on top of people until they moved.

Phinks turned and fixed Hisoka with an incredulous stare.

"You don't know how this is going to help you? Seriously?" he said.

"Nope."

"Your cooking is fucking dangerous!" Phinks snapped. "What you made on Wednesday was probably the most disgusting thing I've ever attempted to eat. I didn't think it was possible for something to be both burnt and raw at the same time, but you managed."

"Seriously, if you can't cook, Hisoka, we should probably take you off the rota," Machi said from her beanbag.

"No, don't take me off the rota!" Hisoka protested. "I like the rota. It's fun. I can learn how to cook, but I just don't see how learning to poach eggs is going to help me with anything. I'll never make them. I don't even like poached eggs."

"Yeah, well I do," Phinks said. "And Nobu does too. If you poach him some eggs, you can make up for giving him food poisoning."

Hisoka rolled his eyes. "Food poisoning? I don't think so. He was being melodramatic."

"I fucking wasn't!" Nobu yelled, outraged, turning round on his beanbag and glaring at Hisoka.

"Yes you were," Hisoka retorted, folding his arms and turning up his nose, adamant.

"You call howling at both ends for two days melodramatic? Your shitty roast almost obliterated my colon!"

"Just shut up and watch the show," Feitan snapped. "You guys are giving me a headache. The more you talk over it, the less Hisoka's going to learn."

"Oh? What's Hisoka got to learn?" Illumi's voice called out, as he glided into the lounge with a bowl of the delicious (and most importantly edible) ramen Shizuku had prepared earlier. Machi frowned, wondering whether it was fair that Illumi should be allowed to dip into the food, since he wasn't on the rota, but then thought better of raising the issue, since he was the landlord and had the power to up the rent.

"He's learning how to cook," Phinks snapped. "And if he doesn't, he's getting taken off the rota and he can do double dishes or pick up the laundry."

"Off, Shalnark," Illumi ordered, without batting an eyelid. Rolling his eyes, Shalnark got up from the sofa and threw himself moodily into the blue beanbag furthest from the television in the corner. Unfazed, Illumi took his place next to Hisoka, and carried on talking as if nothing had happened.

"So what is this rota?" Illumi asked, as he picked up a clump of noodles with his chopsticks and initiated a close inspection of them with his eerily large eyes, taking an occasional tentative sniff.

"The household tasks rota Paku has forced on us," Feitan answered. "You were on it, but just before you left for East Gorteau you told us to take your name off it or you'd up the rent, remember?"

"Oh yes, I remember now," Illumi said absently, before taking a bite of his noodles, seeming satisfied that Shizuku's cooking was fit for consumption. "So you're on it, Hisoka? How curious. What do you do?"

"I have to load and unpack the dishwasher, cook dinner for everyone, and take the bins out once every twelve days," Hisoka answered, as he counted out the tasks on his fingers.

"How very domesticated of you," Illumi said, as he flipped the tip of Hisoka's pink dinosaur tail. "I applaud your efforts to no longer live like a slob. Now, if only Pakunoda could convince you to tidy your own room."

In response, Hisoka stuck out his tongue at Illumi and began shuffling a deck of cards, feigning offence.

"Wait a moment... isn't this Cooking with Dog?" Illumi observed, which was confirmed by the nodding heads of the assembled troupe members and Hisoka. "It usually starts at eight. Aren't you working tonight, Hisoka?"

"No," Pakunoda replied, as she perched upon the edge of the sofa, where she sat painting her toenails with the scarlet polish she had borrowed from Hisoka. "Gon asked him yesterday if he was free to spar and he said yes, which was a lie, as I heard him on the phone earlier asking for the night off."

As Hisoka shot a thin look at Paku, the rest of the troupe began to snigger, save Machi, who shook her head in disapproval, and Illumi, who turned and stared at him with his large, expressionless eyes.

"Honestly, Hisoka," Machi said. "You are so pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Hisoka defended, with a careless smile. "Why? Gon is an up-and-coming young star. He has great potential and I want to see it flourish. He is currently engaged in fighting other teenagers. That is a waste of his talent. If he wants to make it to the top, he needs more experience, and I am willing to give it to him."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Nobu muttered, making Shalnark giggle.

"Just admit that you wanna bang him," Phinks said, with a scornful snort. "It's so obvious. It actually hurts me to watch you talking to him."

"What do you mean?" Illumi said suddenly, turning his round eyes upon Phinks.

"You should have seen him the other day when you were away," came Phinks' reply, which elicited a rare scowl from Hisoka. "Machi's right. It was fucking pathetic. Your brother and Gon came back early from school, Illumi – some sort of competition with another school, or something, I don't actually know, I was kind of tuning them out. When they turned up, Hisoka was eating cheese out the box in his underpants in the kitchen, no make-up, wet hair—"

"—and the doorbell rang and everyone told me it was my turn to get it," Shalnark interrupted, gleefully, "and when I unlocked the door and shouted through to the kitchen that it was Kil and Gon he totally freaked!"

"You should've seen the panic in his face," Phinks said, smirking. "It was fucking hilarious. Then he ran upstairs, flailing like a teenage girl, in case Gon saw him. Came down with his slap on and his hair sprayed all nice and crispy."

"I like to look good for visitors," Hisoka said, turning his nose up with a dismissive air.

"Bullshit," Phinks retorted. "You didn't even bother putting clothes on the night we arrived, and that kid Gon practically lives here. Gon's survived seeing Uvo rip his bike shorts lifting weights – and believe me, that was beyond traumatising – so he can probably handle seeing you without your face on."

"And if you just want to look nice for visitors, then what was last night about?" Shalnark asked, further twisting the knife.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do..." Shalnark retorted, in an evil sing-song tone. "When Gon came into the games room last night with his math homework, he gave you the puppy-dog eyes, asked if you'd help him, and you completely caved and said you'd do it for him."

"Killua says it's not the first time you've done it for him, either," Phinks added. "We know. We asked. And that the only reason he's passing math this year is because you're doing his homework."

"If Gon doesn't maintain a certain grade point average, he will lose his scholarship," Hisoka replied, reasonably. "It would be a waste of his considerable potential if he lost his place at Yorknew High, as they have an excellent martial arts programme."

"Nevertheless, one may argue strongly that Gon does not deserve his scholarship," Illumi said suddenly, looking Hisoka straight in the eye, unblinking.

"Upon what grounds?" Hisoka said, after a pause, returning Illumi's gaze.

A prolonged silence fell. The atmosphere in the room turned frosty.

Across the room, Machi caught Paku's eye and they exchanged a significant look.

Were Illumi and Hisoka actually going to argue over this? For as long as the troupe had been here (which wasn't long, admittedly) Hisoka and Illumi had never fallen out over anything. The troupe, in contrast, bickered and fought constantly, though Machi was equally aware that their arguments amounted to nothing more than a bit of posturing or letting off steam.

This was different. It was icy and calculated. Hisoka and Illumi sat together on the sofa, so close that Hisoka's ridiculous pink dinosaur tail trailed across Illumi's lap, but they were looking at each other as though one false move and fists would fly.

Machi wasn't sure why, but she could sense that Phinks and Shalnark had unwittingly touched a raw nerve. This could be interesting. Something the boss would want to know for the job. From her beanbag, she kept quiet, out of the argument, and observed Hisoka and Illumi closely.

"He does not deserve it upon the grounds that he has not fulfilled the basic conditions of his scholarship and evidently has no intention of ever working to meet them," Illumi replied.

"But his scholarship is for physical education. Athletics," Hisoka countered. "The academic conditions are but lip service paid to satisfy acceptance criteria for any future universities Gon might seek to attend. However, Gon does not want to go to university, therefore there is no purpose in such restrictive conditions."

"Oh? You know what Gon wants?"

Hisoka shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "We had a little chat one night out on the swings. He wants to try his hand at the Arena."

"Does he?"

"Yes," Hisoka replied serenely. "And I think he'll do wonderfully well."

"With your help," Illumi retorted. "Does Gon do nothing for himself?"

"Did you? If I recall correctly your entire family were involved in the nurture of your talent."

Illumi opened his mouth to reply, but the doorbell rang. Heads turned at the sound of the clatters and bangs and the familiar, cheerful voices of Killua and Gon returning home after a long, hard day of schoolwork and training.

"_Hey, guys! We're back! Wow, something smells good!"_

"_Yeah, it does. I guess that means Hisoka's not cooking tonight."_

"_Haha, Killua, you're so mean!"_

"_I'm not being mean. I just don't want to spend the next two days shitting myself inside out like Nobunaga. So gross. You coming in to get some of this stuff?"_

"_Yeah, I will in a sec. I just wanna tell everyone my good news. Don't eat it all, okay—?"_

_BAM!_

With a gust of chilly air, the lounge door was kicked open, and there, standing tall and proud upon the threshold, a pure and innocent joy radiating from every pore, was Gon. He was grinning widely and waving a dog-eared sheet of paper in one hand.

"Hi, guys!" he exclaimed happily. "Guess what?"

"All clear at the clinic?" Feitan asked innocently, eliciting a ripple of sniggering laughter from the assembled troupe members.

"Haha, nice try," Gon laughed, Feitan's dig glancing off him like rainwater on rock. "I got seventy-five in math, so Satotz-san is letting me sit the exam!"

"Was that the homework Hisoka did for you?" Shalnark asked.

"Nuh-uh!" Gon protested, his face contorting in outrage. "Since you guys made such a big deal out of it, Hisoka's been helping me study. He's a really good teacher. I'm way better at math now."

Everyone's eyes turned to Hisoka, who sat on the sofa in his onesie wearing an expression of perfect, inscrutable virtue. Machi shook her head. She had to hand it to him. He was an excellent actor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nobu's shoulders shaking as he fought to suppress his laughter. Over on the other sofa, Shizuku was trying desperately to keep a straight face. Feitan had actually buried his face in his beanbag. It was a small mercy that Uvo was down in the gym because god knows what he would have said.

"Studying? Is that what they call it these days?" Shalnark said, brightly.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Gon asked, blinking in puzzlement. Then his expression brightened, as though he had decided that what Shalnark meant wasn't really worth dwelling on, and said, "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway. I guess I should say thanks to you Hisoka! Without you helping me, there's no way I would've passed math, so here's the hug I promised you—!"

Without warning, Gon sprang onto the sofa, vaulting over Illumi and landing square in Hisoka's lap. Machi's jaw dropped as she watched Gon wrap his arms round Hisoka's narrow waist and squeeze with all his might, burying his head in the soft, fleece of Hisoka's dinosaur onesie.

"Haha, you look cute, Hisoka!" Gon exclaimed happily, as he gave Hisoka's tail a playful tug. "And your onesie feels nice. It's really soft!"

Hisoka said nothing but smiled in a vague manner that made Machi want to grab Gon and tell him to run far and fast.

"But hey, you ready to spar?" Gon went on, leaping off Hisoka's lap and bristling with a sudden excitement as though he had only just recalled Hisoka's own promise to him.

"Mmm-hmm," was all Hisoka seemed able to manage. That and a dreamy sort of smile as he rose and said absently, "Just let me get changed and I'll be down in ten minutes."

Machi's disapproving gaze followed Hisoka as he drifted out of the room in an odd sort of trance. Bursting with excitement, Gon whooped and kicked his heels in celebration.

"I passed math, I get to spar with Hisoka and there's something tasty in the kitchen for after! This is my lucky day!" he cheered, before yelling, "Food time!" and skipping out of the lounge to join Killua in the kitchen.

A careful, measured sort of silence fell, in which no one dared look at one another.

It was Shalnark who cracked first and began to giggle. Shizuku followed and the floodgates opened, the rest of the troupe descending into fits of laughter.

"Hisoka's going up to get changed? Yeah right," Nobunaga chortled, wiping away the tears. "He'll be in his room depositing that in the wank bank right now!"

"You guys are sick," Machi said, folding her arms in disapproval, as Nobu's witty remark set off another fresh wave of laughter. "We should tell the kid what's going on. He's absolutely clueless."

"Don't even think about it," Phinks shot back. "It's funny as hell. Probably the only good thing about living here – no offence, Illumi—"

Of course. Illumi. She had almost forgotten about him. Gon's spectacular interruption had broken her concentration. She was supposed to have been observing him.

Pretending she was put-out by Phinks' rebuttal, she huffed, threw herself back into her beanbag and sneaked a sly glance at Illumi.

Illumi sat on the sofa where Hisoka had left him, looking thoughtful, one long finger pressed against his lips.

As the troupe's jokes grew more and more off-colour and their remarks regarding Hisoka's taste had long since plummeted off the precipice of good taste, Illumi provided a marked contrast, sitting alone, pensive and serene.

Then he stood abruptly, startling the others, still wearing that strange, thoughtful expression, and announced, "I'm going to watch," and without another word, swept out of the room.

"Bye, then," Phinks muttered, after a short pause, flipping Illumi off behind his back.

"It's a good idea, though," Feitan said, as he hauled himself up from his bean bag and dusted himself down. "Anyone else up for this car-crash?"

Shalnark raised his hand. "Count me in!"

Phinks nodded, and Nobunaga shrugged and said, "Why the hell not? I feel like a good laugh tonight. Girls?"

"We'll pass," Machi said curtly, both Paku and Shizuki nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, just don't come crawling to us, complaining, when you're running from the horror of Hisoka's boner," Paku said.

"Whatever," Feitan said with a shrug, as the guys sauntered out of the lounge. "If we see one coming, we promise we'll dodge. Don't want to lose an eye."

"You'd better duck, Feitan," Nobu added, with a sly grin. "You're about the right hight to get speared."

"Fuck off."

oOo

"Read it and weep," Machi declared, smiling as she laid out her perfect run of hearts on the kitchen table. "Ace, king, queen, jack, ten, nine, eight. I win."

Paku and Shizuku leaned forward to inspect the cards, then sighed and tossed their cards into the discard pile, admitting defeat.

"Wanna play something else?" Shizuku pleaded. "I'm tired of Machi handing me my ass at rummy. How about snap?"

"Snap's boring," Paku replied, as she scooped up the cards and began to square them into a deck.

"No, it's democratic!" Shizuku insisted, holding aloft a righteous finger. "No one has to be cleverer than anyone else. You just slap your hand down when you see a pair."

"It's not really democratic," Machi corrected, accepting the cards Paku had begun to deal. "Snap is more about who has faster reflexes and who's willing to get their hand slapped for the sake of winning a pair. At least there's an element of chance in rummy. You don't know which cards are coming up, or which cards the other players have been dealt, so you don't know if you're holding onto the right ones. The only thing you can do is watch what the others pick up. Then you can maybe identify a pattern. Like, if they're picking up diamonds, keep a hold of any diamonds you have for as long as possible so they don't pick them up and finish their runs. That's it, really."

"Yeah, but it's so hard to keep track!" Shizuku moaned, as she slumped on the table in despair.

"Not with only three players," Paku said, as she handed the last card to Machi, who took hers up and fanned them out for inspection.

Three aces, a jack of diamonds, a king of diamonds, a two of spades, a queen of clubs and a three of hearts. Not a bad hand at all...

"Dealer's left," Paku reminded. "Shizuku, you're first."

From out in the hall, Machi began to hear the sound of urgent, muttering voices and footsteps ascending from the basement. One sounded like Uvo. Yes. One of the voices was definitely Uvo. Then came another voice, raised in anger.

"_Don't know what his problem is, but I swear, if he tries that again, I'm moving out!"_

Killua. That was Killua.

Had something happened downstairs?

Holding a hand up to halt the game and silence Paku and Shizuku, who both shot her a puzzled, enquiring look, she sat perfectly still and tried to make out what was being said. Encountering nothing more than a vague, muffled cacophony, she gestured to Paku and Shizuku, and they nodded and followed her out of the kitchen.

They met Feitan halfway through the reception room.

"Good," he said. "I was just coming to get you. Meeting in Shalnark's room. Right now. We've got some news to report."

Five minutes later, and the troupe were all piled onto Shalnark's ridiculously large bed in his ridiculously large room that he had somehow managed to acquire for himself the night they had arrived. They crowded round the laptop from which they had made the video call that connected them to the boss, Kortopi, Bolenov and Franklin across the road. The other four were sitting in the boss's room. Machi could make out the view of number forty-four from their room window via the webcam. It was strange being able to see the house from outside through someone else's camera. She made a mental note to close the curtains when she had a chance to head upstairs.

"Hi, guys," the boss said, waving into the camera. Then he took a moment to adjust the screen, ensuring Franklin's massive head was no longer hidden from view. "What have you got to report?"

"Hi, boss," Feitan replied. "We're not sure how much time we have, so we'll have to make this quick."

"No problem. Shoot."

"Well, you know that kid Gon Freeccs?"

"Yes. Killua's friend."

"That's the one. Turns out Hisoka – you know, the crazy naked guy? – has a massive boner for him. Huge. You could carve ancient words on it and it would stand for a thousand years kind of boner. He's been helping the kid out with his math homework, sparring with him. It's kinda sick but it makes life entertaining, so what the hell.

"Anyway, Hisoka had promised Gon he'd spar with him because the kid's into fighting and wants to make a living out of it. Hisoka also helped him study for a big math test because passing stuff like that is part of the kid's scholarship, or whatever. I don't know. I didn't go to school. Way too poor. You're from Meteor City, you know how it was.

"So Gon was all like, "Thanks, Hisoka". Hisoka jizzed. We all laughed. But Illumi really didn't like it. Really did not like it. Before Gon came back, he was arguing with Hisoka about helping him with his math. Saying that Gon didn't deserve his scholarship and stuff. Then, when we were all getting ripped into Hisoka behind his back about his Gon-boner, Illumi just stands up, says he's heading downstairs to watch, and fucks off.

"We all – well, that's me, Phinks, Shal and Nobu – we weren't done laughing at Hisoka yet, so we decided to follow Illumi.

"When we got to the basement, Gon was already down there, bouncing around like some textbook ADHD case – stretching, warming up, shadow-boxing, basically acting like a dumb teenager – and Killua was slurping his third bowl of ramen, the greedy, little prick.

"Illumi was sitting on the bench, staring at Gon. Not doing anything else. Just staring. Then Hisoka prances downstairs, they spar for a bit. Nothing serious. Nothing impressive. Hisoka's obviously going easy on the kid. Uvo's over in the corner on the weights, shouting at Gon to get serious, and we're about to leave because it was getting boring.

"Then, out of nowhere, Illumi stands up and says to Gon that if he is intent on making it in the Arena, then he'll have to fight harder than that. Next thing we knew, Illumi had rolled up his sleeves, kicked his shoes off, and was on the mat and settled in a stance, provoking the kid into a fight."

"I mean, Gon was obviously going to go for it," Shalnark interrupted.

"Definitely," Nobunaga agreed. "Uvo didn't help though, egging him on like that."

"How did I know Illumi was gonna start wailing on him?" Uvo said in outrage at the accusation of intent.

"Wait, what—?" Machi said, her brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Illumi started wailing on him?"

"Yup," Feitan confirmed. "Uvo was being an idiot, chanting 'Kick his ass! Kick his ass!' and Killua was telling Gon to ignore Illumi and go get changed. But Gon, well, he wouldn't back down. I guess he thought Illumi would treat him like Hisoka has always done."

"He won't be making that mistake again in a hurry," Phinks muttered.

"Nope," Feitan said brightly. "Kid got his ass handed to him. We hardly had time to blink and Illumi had grabbed him by the hair and was smashing his face into the mat. Killua launched himself at Illumi, but he'd gone berserk, and it took Phinks and Uvo to pull him off Gon."

"The kid's face was a mess. A fucking wreck," Phinks said. "Black eye, burst nose, split lip. The works. At least he didn't lose any teeth."

"Interesting," the boss mused, as behind him, Kortopi, Bolenov and Franklin began to mutter together in earnest conversation. "How did Killua react to this explosive turn of events?"

"Not well," Shalnark answered. "He lost it, started yelling and cursing and applying a whole host of colourful adjectives in letting Illumi know what he thought of him. As we were dragging Gon upstairs, Killua shouted that if he tried that again, he'd move out and 'tell dad everything'."

"Really?" the boss said, perking up. "I wonder what this mysterious 'everything' could be?"

"The kid knows something," Machi stated plainly as she smacked a gloved fist into her palm, "and it's most likely something to do with this secret Illumi's keeping from his family."

"Most likely," the boss agreed. "But why become so riled over Gon? What could cause Illumi to react with such volatility? Illumi is normally quite the model of composure."

"He did seem pretty angry when he was talking to Hisoka about Gon's scholarship," Shizuku pondered. "Maybe he doesn't like Gon cheating?"

Shalnark's face brightened, and he said, "You might be on to something, Shizuku, but I'm not sure if it's anything to do with cheating. Killua's family don't like that he's not living at home and learning the family trade, correct? What if an opportunity arose that would encourage Killua to leave school? They would take it, right?"

"Where are you going with this?" Feitan said, throwing Shalnark a withering look.

"If Gon doesn't fulfil the terms of his scholarship, he will lose his place at Yorknew High," Shalnark elaborated, with a winning smile. "Illumi was mad about Hisoka helping him because he wanted Gon to lose his place at the school! Gon is Killua's best – and only – friend at school. If Gon was forced to leave, then Killua wouldn't have any reason to stay."

There was a silence as the troupe took a moment for Shalnark's hypothesis to sink in.

"Y'know, that actually sounds plausible," Franklin said slowly, rubbing his square jaw as he deliberated on the matter.

"Yup, I agree," Nobu said, nodding.

"If nothing else, it provides Illumi with a motive as to why he acted so uncharacteristically," the boss asserted. "Hisoka, his own friend, had been foiling his plans to sabotage Gon's scholarship, and he wanted to punish both by hurting Gon."

"I guess that makes sense," Machi said hesitantly, "though there's something that still doesn't add up."

"The mysterious everything," the boss finished, predicting her concern.

She nodded. "We still don't know what Killua's dangling over Illumi as a threat."

"Then that will be your job to find out," the boss concluded, amiably. "What's the progress on the cameras?"

She shook her head.

"I want them in by tomorrow evening," the boss said, resolute and uncompromising. "The Zoldycks have been pestering me for information, and, until now, I have had nothing to give them. Your report has been most welcome, and I will forward the information you have collected to the Zoldycks, who will, no doubt, derive from it a grim satisfaction knowing their suspicions regarding Illumi are not without foundation.

"Nevertheless," he cautioned, "they want video evidence and they are growing impatient."

"We'll have them in by tomorrow, boss," Machi sighed. "I don't know how, but we'll make it happen."

"Good," the boss said, with a slight smile. "I'm counting on you."

Then the boss leaned over, and with the click of a button, the signal cut out.

oOo

"Where's Gon?" Machi inquired, as the troupe trudged downstairs in a gloomy cast of mind, each pondering how on earth they could possibly sneak a wireless spy camera into Illumi's room without being caught.

"Killua said he was taking him to Riorio's," Nobunaga replied.

"_Leorio_," Shalnark corrected.

"Whatever," Nobunaga snorted. "We would've recommended you to stitch him up, Machi, but Killua dragged him away before we could offer."

"Who's Leorio?"

"He used to go to Yorknew High," Shalnark answered. "He was one of the founding members of the Gamer's Society and he was part of the Clear Team when they were the first to beat Greed Island. Killua had a team photo taken. It's down in the games room, if you want to have a look. Gon said this guy Leorio was on scholarship too, but for academic subjects instead of athletics. He's a med student at City University."

"Ah, I guess that makes sense," Machi conceded. "I can stitch people up, but taking the pain away is a different matter."

"He'll be alright," Nobu said, optimistically. "The kid's tough. He'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow morning, I'll bet."

"So where's Illumi hiding?" Machi asked, clenching her fists. It was strange and unwarranted, after all she hardly knew Illumi or that kid Gon, but for some reason, what Illumi had done had shocked her. No... That wasn't it. She hadn't been shocked. She had seen too much to feel that way about anything. A more accurate way to describe her feelings on the matter might be an odd mixture of anger that Illumi would do that to a kid for no apparent reason (though she knew there _was_ a reason, whether Shalnark's theory was correct or not), surprise that he would lose his cool like that, because Illumi was a pro, for god's sake, and sheer goddamned bewilderment as to _why_ he would do it.

She just did not get it.

"After he TKO'd the kid, he stalked off upstairs and Hisoka went after him," Nobu answered. "I think Phinks checked the lounge and saw him out back through the window. He was on the swings and Hisoka was buzzing about him like a fly."

"Fine," Machi said, squaring herself. "I'm going to go have a little chat with him."

"What? Wait, don't make him mad! Machi, seriously, do not make him mad, do you hear me?" she heard Shalnark's anxious voice call out. "If he throws us out, then the job's over and we're back to square one. Machi?"

Ignoring Shalnark's pleas, Machi stormed downstairs and through the lounge, heading towards the tall, elegant French doors that opened out onto the back yard.

Phinks was right. Illumi was on the swings, though he wasn't using them. He just sat on one of the lurid, rubber seats and held onto the chains with both hands and stared at the grass, rocking himself gently back and forward with both feet on the ground. Hisoka was there too, occupying the swing next to Illumi. He was leaning in quite close, smiling, talking to him, evidently trying to placate his odd, recalcitrant, staring friend.

Machi shook her head. Hah. Friend? What had she been thinking. Hisoka wasn't a friend. How could he be? Letting his... his _selfish_ _interest_ in Gon lead to this whole ridiculous mess, to Hisoka sabotaging Illumi's plans, making Illumi go nuts, and, worst of all, causing Gon to be seriously hurt.

She knew that the guys thought he was funny. Eccentric. Harmless. Just some charming, fucked up queen with a boner for a high-school kid. But she knew better. There was something about him, she knew, that just wasn't right. There was nothing to go on, not yet, but her hunches were never wrong.

Opening the double doors carefully, so as not to startle the pair, she slipped outside and walked quietly towards them. She could hear Hisoka muttering soft words in Illumi's ear, saw him reach out and tuck a long strand of Illumi's hair behind his ear.

"Are you in a bad mood, Illumi?"

Hisoka's question was met with a stony wall of silence.

"Please speak to me," Hisoka went on, smiling encouragingly. "I don't like it when you're not talking to me."

Silence.

"Are you angry with me?"

A nod.

"Why?"

"You know why," came Illumi's chilly reply.

"I do, yes. I wish you would let me make it up to you."

With a dramatic sigh, Hisoka pushed off and began to swing. He was a little too tall for them, so had to work hard to tuck his feet underneath so they didn't catch on the ground. And as he swung, he looked up and spotted Machi.

Smiling, he waved at her, and he gave a great push, working harder and harder, pushing higher and higher, and when the swing's chains began to groan and creak as they were stretched to their limit, almost parallel to the ground, Hisoka leapt from the swing. twisted in the air and landed on the grass like a gymnast with unnatural grace. Arms outstretched, he took a bow.

"Nice trick," she said curtly.

"Thank you," Hisoka said. "I'm trying to cheer Illumi up, and now that you're here, I've had a great idea—"

With a flourish, he spun and dropped to the ground. Shuffling along the wet ground on his knees, not caring that dirty green smears had already begun to streak across his trousers, he shuffled over to Illumi, draped his arms over Illumi's long legs and rested his chin on his hands.

Staring up at him invitingly with his strange, yellow eyes, Hisoka said, "How about we go out tonight, Illumi? We can invite all the others so you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. We can get to know them properly. No teenagers. We can get blind drunk and forget this whole thing ever happened. It'll be fun. What do you think?"

Illumi looked up and Hisoka smiled so sweetly that for a moment it almost fooled Machi.

"Come on," he insisted, giving Illumi a playful nudge. "Come out tonight? For me?"

oOo

It was lucky that Leorio and Kurapika's apartment was only two stops away on the underground, because the way the other passengers on the carriage had muttered and stared at them had pissed Killua off so much that he had felt _this close_ to matching the state of their stupid faces to Gon's.

Gon had laughed and said to ignore them, that he was okay. "Just a bit roughed up, that's all. Hisoka kicked me really hard once. That was way more painful than this." But Killua had ignored him because Illumi had really done a number on him and there was no way in hell Gon would be able to make his usual excuses for this one when they went back to school on Monday. They would ask questions, he knew it, and he wanted to be prepared to answer them, so he had dragged Gon to Leorio and Kurapika's.

With Gon draped round his shoulders (he couldn't walk very well as Illumi had executed a vicious sweep and had taken out his left ankle), Killua buzzed apartment 3/2 and hammered on the door for what felt like the millionth time.

"Come on, open the door, you assholes..."

There was click and a crackle of white noise.

"WOULD YOU STOP PRESSING THE DAMNED BUZZER!" he heard Leorio yell through the intercom, at the top of his lungs. "I CAN SEE YOU FROM THE WINDOW."

Killua looked up and, sure enough, there was Leorio with the phone to his ear, wearing a towel round his waist and one piled on top of his hair. He must have been in the shower. Well, too bad. This was urgent.

"YEAH, WELL LET US IN, YOU DUMBASS!" Killua roared back. "GON'S HURT!"

"Wait... what?" Leorio said in disbelief, his tone urgent. "Stay... stay right there! I'm coming down."

"I'M OKAY REALLY, LEORIO!" Gon shouted cheerfully, before wincing and clutching at his jaw, laughing sheepishly at the sudden pain he now suffered whilst undertaking such simple activities as talking to other people.

"Damn, I guess Illumi hit me harder than I thought, eh?" Gon said.

Killua gritted his teeth and said nothing in reply, not particularly desirous of discussing his deranged older brother. Instead, he concentrated on holding Gon steady while he tapped his foot, waiting impatiently for Leorio to appear.

Through the frosted glass, there was a flurry of movement as someone came haring downstairs.

Finally...

The door opened to reveal Kurapika.

"What's going on?" Kurapika asked breathlessly, his eyes wide with concern. When he noticed Gon standing smiling up at him, his good-natured face swollen and bloody from Illumi's ministrations, he gasped.

"Oh my goodness," he said. "Leorio said you'd been hurt, but I wasn't expecting this. Did you get into a fight?"

"My brother," Killua said grimly, by way of explanation.

"Illumi did this?" Kurapika said, astonished. "Why?"

"I'll tell you when we get upstairs," Killua muttered, checking over his shoulder, his eyes flitting left and right. "Can't take any chances with my family, you know how it is. Can you give me a hand with Gon? I'm not letting him hop up any more stairs."

oOo

"You've been lucky," Leorio said, as he snipped the thread and tied the final knot with deft, practised fingers. "It doesn't feel like anything's broken. I still think you should get to the hospital, though, just to check. Seriously, I'll drive you both there. It's not a problem."

"Nah, I'll be okay," Gon answered, with a grin. "The cut on my head doesn't even hurt now that you injected that stuff in it."

"Haha, keep it down, Gon," Leorio laughed nervously. "I'm not supposed to have it. I'm only using it because it's you, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

Feigning paranoia, Gon looked left and right, then lowered his voice conspiratorially and replied, "Oh, okay. I won't tell. Promise."

"You certainly do look better," Kurapika said, as he sat nursing his mug of tea on the bargain sofa he and Leorio had picked up from an auction for three-hundred Jenny. Both Killua and Gon had been there to help them overcome the Herculean task of hauling it back to their apartment. Though it had looked distinctly mouldy and the worse for wear at the time, Leorio had solved the problem by purchasing a throw, which, tossed over the lumpen monstrosity, made it almost appear an acceptable place to sit in relative comfort.

"Yeah, cleaning the blood away works wonders, I guess," Killua conceded, as he sipped the tea Kurapika had offered him, perched upon the very edge of the sofa, his legs pulled into his chest like a gargoyle.

"It looked much worse than it turned out to be," Leorio agreed. "But still, Illumi shouldn't have done that. Seriously, I'd knock him out or call the cops on the bastard if you and Killua would let me. The cut on Gon's head was bad enough to need stitching and the black eye and the red nose are going to take some explaining."

"Tell me about it," Killua muttered darkly.

"Don't worry about it, Leorio! I can totally deal with it. You can cover up scars and wounds and stuff with make-up. Hisoka knows how. I'll just ask him," Gon said brightly.

"What the hell, Gon?" Killua said slowly, in incredulous disbelief. "I mean seriously, are you really that dumb? I know Illumi hit you pretty hard, but I didn't think you'd have already forgotten what I spent the _whole_ underground ride trying to spell out for you."

In a typical show of obstinacy, Gon snorted petulantly and folded his arms. Realising that he had still not gotten through to him about Hisoka, Killua snarled in frustration and lashed out, punching one of Leorio and Kurapika's fusty, odd-smelling cushions.

"Guys, what's going on?" Kurapika said, after a short silence, observant as ever.

"Illumi hates me because I'm friends with Killua!" Gon asserted, his eyes flashing with anger. "Illumi says that assassins aren't supposed to have friends, that they don't need them, that they're supposed to work alone, and that I'm ruining Killua's professional development, or something lame like that."

"Eh?" Leorio said, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. "But Illumi's friends with Hisoka, right?"

Kurapika nodded. "He seems to be, as far as I'm aware. Don't you remember chatting to him in Greed Island, Leorio?"

"Yeah. You asked him how he knew Gon, and he said he was friends with Killua's brother," Leorio replied straightaway. "I mean, it's not as if I'd forget that. I do remember meeting him for the first time and wondering who the hell the weird clown freak that Gon had brought along was. Then you gave him the third degree because he looked like a weird clown freak and he said he was friends with Illumi. And then we ended up clearing Greed Island a week later. So yeah, Illumi's a hypocrite, if he's saying that stuff, Gon."

"I know!" Gon said, bristling with indignation. "It makes me so mad!"

"But how did you end up on the receiving end of Illumi's wrath?" Kurapika pressed.

"Oh, Killua says he got mad because he found out Hisoka was helping me with my math," Gon scoffed. "I dunno why he was so angry. Maybe because he thinks I'm stealing his friend? Because Hisoka likes me better than him?"

"I suppose that could make sense," Kurapika considered, though Killua could tell by the look on his face that he seemed unconvinced. "You _have_ been spending more time with Hisoka. He's been facilitating your preparation for the various fights you've had scheduled, and has been helping you with your homework—"

"Not to mention that guy he knocked out for you the other day," Leorio added, with a nod.

"Exactly," Kurapika continued. "Despite the unlikelihood of Illumi acting out of jealousy – though I must admit, I do not know him well enough to judge – I suppose that could be a motive for his frankly odious behaviour..."

With a sigh, Killua flopped backwards and tucked his arms behind his head. He knew this would go on late into the night, and he was quite happy to let it go on, for he had no intention of returning home. That, and there was no real danger of them happening upon the truth of the matter. The enmity between Illumi and Gon had long been an issue, and no matter how minutely his friends dissected the problem for examination, they had not once even come close to guessing the truth.

He wished he could tell them everything. He wanted to, really he did. It would make his life so much easier. And Gon's. He did feel bad about Gon. But it would do no good, because if he did tell them, then he would have to leave Yorknew and the life he had forged for himself here, and that was not an option.

He was trying so damned hard to tell Gon to stay away from Hisoka, but that manipulative bastard just could not help baiting him, could not help rubbing his face in the fact that he was perfectly aware that Killua knew everything and wanted to have fun playing with him. While he desperately fought to pull Gon one way, Hisoka, with his charm and humour and quick-wit, who had already achieved everything Gon wanted in life, pulled his friend the other way and had dragged the unknowing Gon into his mucky machinations.

He hoped Hisoka knew that his scheme had backfired today. Killua knew Hisoka liked Gon, knew he liked him in _that_ way, and if he hadn't been so busy trying to haul his brother off his best friend, he wished with all his heart he could have seen the look on Hisoka's face as he stood at the other end of the mat, watching the chaos that he had caused unfolding.

Not that he would have been worried, though, Killua realised. Hisoka probably would have enjoyed it, the sick bastard.

As the voices of his friends washed over him, Killua's fists curled.

Next time Hisoka screwed up, he didn't care what Illumi thought or would do to him afterwards, he would slit that smug fucker's throat.

And that was a promise.


	4. Messy

Hard Times

* * *

-chapter four-

Messy

* * *

Ria D'Arcy, Ice LunaWolf and Aiko are cool for reviewing. Thanks, guys. Every review is appreciated. Thanks for teh fave, The Green Coat Downpour. That's cool too. : )

Let's go.

* * *

oOo

A blast of frigid air howled down the street. Machi wrapped her arms tightly around her body and shivered, wishing not for the first time that she had brought something to wear over her kimono jacket. The troupe were waiting to be admitted to Light's, the club where Hisoka worked. Apparently, he knew the boss on first-name terms, so he could get them on the guest list.

Only once they had reached Southernpiece Station and ascended from the bowels of the sweaty, heaving subway, Hisoka had run off, babbling on about needing gum and that he would find them inside. He had left the troupe with Illumi, who hadn't spoken to anyone since he had fallen out with Hisoka, and they had been forced to follow Illumi as he drifted along the street, his eccentric frock-coat, ballet-flats, bandage top and cropped trousers co-ord eliciting piercing wolf-whistles from packs of clueless, roving young men who laboured under the misapprehension that Illumi was female.

Believing they were on the guest list as Hisoka had promised, they had advanced to the head of the line, only to be informed by the surly doorman that, no, they were not on the guest list and that he suggested they head to the back like everyone else, and if they tried to pull that trick again, they would be barred. Evidently, Hisoka had forgotten to call ahead. Illumi had coldly remarked that such behaviour was typical of Hisoka before devoting his attention once again to his phone.

Thus they had passed twenty cold, aggravating minutes in the long line that snaked halfway down Lingon Road, cordoned off by velvet ropes. Patrolled by grim-faced bouncers in tuxedos and populated by giggling bleached-blondes in teetering stilettos and grinning, vacuous, orange men wearing far too much fake tan, the troupe provided a marked and motley contrast.

Aside from Illumi, only Paku was really dressed for the place, having slipped on some skin-tight leathers and a heavy, black, sequinned mini-dress. The rest had made absolutely no concession whatsoever to occasion and had merely donned their customary garb. Uvo's vest, loin-cloth and bike-shorts, in particular, were garnering a considerable amount of attention, most of it from the gaggle of bleached-blondes behind them, who were taking it in turns to hang off Uvo's arms with high-pitched shrieks of laughter as Uvo had the time of his life lifting them up like barbells, two on each arm. Their male friends cast lingering glances at Illumi, who stood next to Shizuku and Pakunoda, looking unattainable and disinterested, tapping away on his phone. Machi had made an attempt to dress up, though it had been half-hearted. As she stood in line, shivering, she felt uneasy and out of place: a jaded wallflower surrounded by ephemeral, flitting social butterflies, too sober and cynical to participate.

The volume of the inane chatter, the sickly-sweet smell of Uvo's girls' disgusting perfume and the chemical fumes of hairspray that seemed to envelop the entire queue in a pervasive smog had not improved Machi's mood.

Taking a step forward as the group in front were ushered in by the doormen, she closed her eyes, folded her arms as a brace against the wind and reminded herself, repeating it over and over like a mantra, that they were almost there, that this was for the job, that she was being paid to do this, that it would only be for a couple of hours and that if Nobunaga could set up the camera while they were out, everything would fall into place and the Zoldycks would stop bothering the boss.

At least it would be warm inside, right? Sweaty warm, probably. But warm was warm.

A few paces away, Phinks and Feitan sauntered up to the doorman, the rest of the troupe following behind. But they were forced to a halt as the stocky, broad-shouldered bouncer held out a thick arm, denying them access.

"Hold up," he demanded, addressing Phinks in his gruff voice. "There ain't no way."

"Eh?" Phinks scoffed. "The hell are you talking about?"

The bouncer took a moment to look Phinks up and down with critical eyes. Then he shook his head and said, "Long list, buddy. Mr Nostrade says smart-casual, no trainers, and you rock up in a god damned tracksuit and trainers and think we're just gonna make an exception for ya? Plus, you ain't got no eyebrows. I don't like that. It's freaky lookin'."

"Freaky looking? I guess you haven't looked in the mirror, lately, Fat Mullet," Feitan jibed, as he stepped forward to defend Phinks.

The bouncer bristled with indignation and jutted his chin aggressively at Feitan, who stared back, without blinking.

"Wasn't talking to you, midget," the bouncer growled. "Got any I.D.? This place is twenty-one and over. You too, blondie," he added, hurling a finger at Shalnark, who looked surprised to be the sudden focus of attention. "Show me some I.D. or you're outta here."

The ground trembled, and a shadow passed over Machi's head. She grinned as the bouncer's panic-widened eyes trailed upwards, taking in the colossal from of Uvo.

"Is there a problem here?" Uvo asked politely, though the undercurrent of threat was unmistakable.

The bouncer's jaw dropped and he began to stutter, warring between refusing the hulking, half-naked giant in Lycra bike shorts that loomed over him or disobeying his gangland boss. Quite the dilemma, it seemed.

"Um...n-no... no problem, Sir," the bouncer stammered, raking a hand through his hair with a nervous laugh. "I-It's just that... Mr Nostrade... no trainers—"

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack—_

Machi's head turned at the urgent sound of a pair of absurd and impractical heels clacking towards them at speed. A familiar figure raced across the busy road, dodging taxi cabs and laughing madly as he forced one to a halt and vaulted clear over the bonnet. The angry honk of the driver's horn fell on deaf ears as Hisoka skipped to the other side of the road with a wide smile on his face.

Strutting past the line, Hisoka drained the last drops from his juice box, crushed the carton and tossed it. As he walked past, people began to point and talk in excited whispers.

"_Oh my god, is that Hisoka?"_

"_I hope he's working tonight..."_

"_Hah, you wouldn't even have enough for one hour with him, even if you saved for a month!"_

"_Hey, shut up! A guy can dream, right? And besides, it's free to look—"_

Paying more attention to his phone, which had buzzed, Hisoka walked past the assembled clubbers, unfazed by the heads that turned to gape at him. Blowing a huge bubble with gum that matched the colour of his extravagant, fluffy, bright-pink coat, he frowned, then looked up.

"Illumi?" he called out, puzzled, as he rushed over. "What are you all still doing here?"

"You didn't put us on the guest list, dumbass!" Phinks snapped. "Forget to phone ahead, did we? Too busy painting stars on our fucking face?"

Realisation dawned and Hisoka began to laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm kind of forgetful that way. Illumi's my manager. He usually reminds me about these things, but he's not talking to me."

Then he stepped forward and addressed the bouncer with a winning smile.

"They're with me, Todo," he said, with a gracious sweep of his hand. Hisoka's nails were filed to points, painted candy pink and crusted with diamante. "The boss knows they're coming. We're in the V.I.P. lounge."

Todo, the bouncer, let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through the tangled strip of hair that hung down his back. Hisoka had rescued him in the nick of time. It was clear Uvo's intimidation tactics would have worked like a charm, as the bouncer's shaggy mullet had begun to bead with sweat.

"Right, right..." he muttered, unclipping the velvet rope. "God, Hisoka. Gonna tell me about these things in future?"

"Will do!" Hisoka sang. Then he spun and grabbed Illumi round the waist.

Startled by the sudden invasion, Illumi's eyes widened, and he almost dropped his phone when Hisoka leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"We are going to have so much fun tonight!" Hisoka insisted. Looking over his shoulder, he waved a hand and beckoned the others.

"Do you lot enjoy standing outside in the cold?" he laughed, as he took Illumi by the hand and dragged him into the club. "Come on!"

oOo

Machi had figured it would be sweaty warm inside, but she hadn't predicted that the walls and ceilings would be slick with rivulets of condensation that beaded and pooled and dripped unexpectedly. As Hisoka ushered them upstairs to a private box overlooking the heaving, smoky dance floor, Machi kept looking up, in case any other suspiciously warm drops threatened to splash on her forehead.

A thick curtain at the top of the stairs was all that separated them from the hoi polloi downstairs. Hisoka drew it back with a flourish and bowed.

"After you," he said.

Illumi strode past him without a backward glance. The troupe followed.

Out of the way of the hundreds of clubbers who glided and staggered and spun across the dance floor, the constant throb of the repetitive, electronic beats the DJ blasted from the smoky, low-lit stage was present up in their private booth, but not invasive as it would have been below. It was a pleasant surprise to find that, up here, it was possible to simultaneously carry on a conversation _and_ enjoy the music.

Maybe Hisoka had come through for them after all, Machi mused, as she took a seat next to Paku on one of the absurdly comfortable black sofas that had been arranged to form a neat box around a low, square table of polished glass. Job or no job, she wasn't sure if she could have endured having to fight her way through the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor or the hellish swarm at the bar just for a drink or a dance.

"Now this is more like it!" Uvo enthused.

"Yes, it's great up here, isn't it? If you lean over the back of the sofa, you can watch everyone on the dance floor, pick out your favourite and pounce. It's a pity Nobunaga couldn't make it," Hisoka said, as he handed his ridiculous pink coat to one of the hostesses who had come to take their coats and their drinks order.

"Your fault, dickhead," Phinks remarked. "He's still rough from Wednesday."

Hisoka rolled his eyes.

"What did you order, anyway?" Uvo asked Hisoka. "I saw that girl writing a bunch of stuff down."

"Jugs. Lots of jugs," Hisoka replied, with an indecent mime and a wicked grin. Uvo roared with laughter and threw a heavy arm around Hisoka's shoulders.

"You dress funny and you're a weird sonofabitch, but you're my kinda guy, Hisoka..."

"_Let me upstairs, Dalzolenne! I have to see him _right now!_ Ahhh, Hisoka, Hisoka, Hisokaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

In unison, their heads turned at the sound of eager squeals and racing footsteps advancing upstairs. Behind the curtain, someone's excitement was bubbling over. From the sound of the clacking heels and the high-pitched voice, Machi deduced it was a young girl.

The curtain was torn open, revealing what appeared at first glance to be a walking doll. The girl who stood in the doorway and beamed with a fervent joy could easily have been mistaken for one, with her pale face, her perfectly ironed hair dyed a vivid cobalt blue, her fussy Rococo dress and shiny white shoes. Her eyes were wide and sparkled with happiness and she threw her gloved hands high in the air and squealed, "Hi Hisoka! I didn't think you'd be in tonight. Daddy said you'd taken the night off. Why didn't you message me?"

Vaulting over the back of the sofa, Hisoka ran over to the elaborate, creamy-coloured princess, and to her laughing delight, picked her up by the waist and spun her round twice before depositing her safely once again on solid ground.

"I wanted to surprise you, Neon," Hisoka lied, making the girl, Neon, blush.

"You're so silly, Hisoka," she retorted. "Oh, but there's something way more important than work and other boring things like that. Do you like my dress?"

Neon performed a coquettish twirl as Hisoka observed and was awarded with an approving nod.

"It's lovely," Hisoka answered. "Off the rack or bespoke?"

"Hee, I love that you can't tell!" Neon enthused. "It's off-the-rack. Kinda lame, but it was so pretty. I had to have it...!"

Neon's girlish voice faltered as it began to dawn on her that someone was staring at her.

Sitting across from Machi, on the other sofa, Illumi had deigned to look up from the engrossing game of Metris he had been playing on his phone in a determined attempt to ignore Hisoka. With his large, eerie eyes, he stared, unblinking, at Neon, the pretty, twirling, princess who had rushed upstairs and commanded Hisoka's attention. Machi knew this because Shalnark had nudged her and pointed at Illumi, while whispering in her ear: "See that look? Remember it because that is a _bad_ look. That's exactly the same look he gave Gon before he kicked the crap out of him." Machi didn't know why the stupid girl was still standing there. If Illumi had been staring at her like that, she'd have run a mile.

"Wait!" Neon exclaimed suddenly, her gloved hands flying to her face in happy realisation. "I know who you are! You must be Illumi!"

Illumi's head tilted.

"Yes! You _must_ be Illumi," she exclaimed, as she swept across the floor to perch upon the edge of the sofa, where Illumi sat and stared.

"You have such beautiful hair," she cooed, as she began to stroke Illumi's hair with a gloved hand, observing it with an envious, fascinated longing. "Hisoka talks about it all the time, his friend Illumi's beautiful hair, but I didn't believe him. Ahhh, it's _so _soft! Is that your own colour? It's like silky dark chocolate. I feel like I want to lick it! How do you get it to sit like that? Do you do anything to it?"

"I wash and brush it. That is all."

Neon let out a squeal of envy. "I am _so_ jealous of you! It takes Eliza ages to do my hair. I have to sit for so long, it's so boring! How long does it take you do to your hair, Hisoka?"

"Fucking ages," Phinks snapped. "And he gasses the entire top floor with all the hairspray he uses."

Neon giggled and turned to face the rest of the troupe with a bright smile. "I bet that's true," she teased. "Though it's deffo worth the effort. Hisoka always looks fab when he goes on stage. Do you guys live with him? I've never met any of Hisoka's friends before."

"Yes," Hisoka replied. "They're renting from Illumi too. They arrived two weeks ago."

Hisoka proceeded to introduce each of them in turn, and Neon offered a shy wave and a smile to the assembled troupe members.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," she said. "I would love to stay and party with you, but I have to go back upstairs and study. I've got my exhibition next week, and I'm freaking out," she added with a nervous laugh. "I still have so much to do!"

"Neon is studying Fashion at Central College," Hisoka explained. "She designs prints, mostly, is that right?"

Neon nodded. "Pretty much, though I have to be able to design and assemble the whole dress too. I'm specialising in womenswear. It's tough, but so worth it when you see the finished product.

"But yeah, I have to go," she insisted. Hopping off the sofa, she skipped across the floor before stopping at the curtain to add, "I'll make sure daddy sends you some stuff, though. And don't you guys dare pay for anything tonight! It's on the house!"

With a rustle of fabric, Neon disappeared behind the curtain.

There was a short pause. Then Feitan turned to Hisoka and asked, "Did a fabric fairy just visit us? Who was that?"

"Neon Nostrade," Hisoka said, as he jammed himself between Shizuku and Illumi on the crowded sofa. "Her father owns the club— Oh, thank you!" he added, as a primly dressed waitress leaned over to deposit a large, black box on the table. The box was topped with a black velvet bow, and a tag, white with gilt edges, hung from a thin string.

Picking up the box, Hisoka inspected the tag, and read: "To Hisoka and friends. With compliments. Light."

"What is it?" Shizuku inquired.

Lifting the lid, Hisoka peered inside and grinned. He presented the contents to Illumi and the troupe.

Inside, were lots of little bottles sat on purple tissue paper and arranged in neat rows. Half were green and half were brown. All contained a powdery substance. The green bottles were labelled "No. 1" and the brown bottles "No. 2." All had identical brassy-coloured screw lids. Tucked in at the side was a cocktail recipe card.

"What the hell?" Uvo barked, scratching his head. "I ain't drinking cocktails. Just get me a beer, or a whisky, or somethin'."

"Trust me, Uvo," Hisoka said, with a grin, as he began unscrewing the lids of the green Number One bottles. "You'll want to try this cocktail."

A clinking of glass signalled the arrival of a squadron of waitresses, who bore trays crammed to the corners with empty glasses and large pitchers filled with a pink liquid. As they were set down upon the table, to Machi's horror, Hisoka began to tip the open bottles into the pitchers.

"Hey, what the hell—?" she admonished, grabbing his wrist and stopping him in his tracks.

"Yeah, what is that stuff?" Shalnark said, eyeing the pitchers with suspicion.

"Pink gin fizz," Hisoka replied innocently. "With gin, you can't smell the alcohol on your breath, so if you get pulled over, at least you have half a chance at convincing the officer you're sober."

"He means the stuff in the bottles, not the pitchers," Machi threatened. She tightened her grip on Hisoka's arm, which only made his smile wider.

"Relax," he reasoned. "It's just a little Molly. It'll make you happy. If you're just wanting a drink, I'll leave some of the pitchers alone. Is that okay?"

"I guess," she muttered, satisfied, at which point she relinquished her grip on Hisoka's arm. "What's in the brown bottles?"

"Coke," Hisoka replied, without compunction.

Then he poured a generous glass of the spiked pink gin fizz, added a few ice cubes and held it up for all to see and admire, his nails sparkling in a myriad of repeating patterns and colours as the stage lights strobed. His smile was sharp, wolfish, predatory.

"Who wants one?" he said.

oOo

The drinks kept coming. Machi wasn't sure how many she'd had. It was hard to tell with pitchers because Paku kept topping up everyone's glasses. She was drunk and happy and the table was a sticky mess of gin fizz because every time she tried to manoeuvre the heavy pitchers, she always spilled some.

In the end, she'd tried some of Hisoka's spiked cocktail. She'd had two glasses of the stuff, and actually, it was okay. If she had to describe the feeling, it would have been detached, but happy. As though she were watching a warm, feel-good movie through someone else's eyes. She was still bundled on the sofas with Feitan, Phinks, Hisoka and Illumi. The rest were tearing it up on the dance floor. It was fun leaning over the railing, watching Uvo stomping and strutting like a peacock. Watching Shalnark attempting to do the same was even funnier.

She had never seen Shalnark dance. He was terrible. It was funny.

She was laughing. Feitan and Phinks were laughing. Hisoka was laughing so hard his mascara had begun to run and he had had to jam his fingers under his eyes to keep it from bleeding into his foundation.

Illumi was sitting at the other end, curled up in a ball, stroking a furry cushion with numb, absent fingers. His eyes were like saucers. The smile that barely touched his lips was vague.

Machi wondered if he was okay. He had taken rather a lot, but Hisoka said not to worry. That Illumi was used to it.

God, Shalnark was a bad dancer...

oOo

More cocktails appeared.

Hisoka sprinkled the magic dust and everything was wonderful.

At one point, the music stopped, just as Machi was really getting into it. Irritated, she called out, raising her voice to join the outraged chorus that swelled from the dance floor. There was an announcement. The DJ was taking a break. There would be a performance. Bids would be taken. If anyone wanted a paddle, hostesses would arrive shortly with boxes.

"Paddles... what the fuck?" Feitan slurred. He was slumped in the corner of the sofa, surrounded by cushions Hisoka and Phinks had piled on top of him.

"It's an auction," Hisoka explained, as he shuffled onto his knees and hooked his arms over the railings. "A performer will appear on the stage and will dance. During the dance, members of the audience will bid – frequently over the odds, because Light Nostrade hires only the best – for a night with the performer. The performer makes a lot of money, Nostrade takes commission, the audience enjoys a good show, and the customer gets what they want. Everyone wins."

Curious, Machi and Phinks joined him. Below, the crowd began to gravitate toward the stage, some stopping to pick up plastic paddles from boxes borne by Light Nostrade's prim, silent employees.

"I wonder who's on tonight?" Hisoka mused. "Probably Baise. She's always looking for Saturday night slots."

In Machi's frazzled mind, something clicked.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" she said. Hisoka turned and smiled secretively. "That's how you're able to afford that coat and all that weird stuff that you buy. And the rent. You were supposed to be on tonight, weren't you?"

Hisoka nodded.

"Tell me that's not how you and Illumi met?"

Hisoka threw back his head and laughed.

"God no," he said. "We met in Zaban City at the Big Underground Marathon about... hmm... four years ago now, was it?" Hisoka counted on his fingers, then nodded. "Yes. It would be four years now. Ha, that's longer than I thought. Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose."

"So how did you end up here, wiggling your ass for cash?" Phinks asked.

"I used to fight regularly at Heaven's Arena. When I moved here, times were hard and I couldn't get any of my usual work. There was an ad going round online requesting a magician to work a late-shift, doing a couple of tricks at a private members' club. I jumped at the chance, and Light hired me. I was a tabletop magician first," Hisoka explained. "Performing close-up magic and card tricks for Light's mafia cohorts. One day, a performer didn't show up, and Light was at his wits' end trying to find a replacement. I volunteered, just for a bit of fun. I pulled in nine figures that night," he said, with a hint of pride. "Since I had broken the earnings record by a such generous margin, Light asked if I would do the same again the following week. And here I am."

"I guess sex dancers make more cash than magicians?"

"Obviously it varies," Hisoka teased, "but in my case, most certainly."

"Hey, it's a woman," Phinks noticed. He pointed at the stage and Hisoka and Machi's eyes followed his gesture. "Long hair. Ponytail. Catsuit."

"Ah, I was right. It is Baise," Hisoka said, amusedly. "This should be fun. She drives all the men wild."

"She's hot," Feitan muttered, having scattered the cushions and come to join them.

"Yeah, she is," Phinks agreed.

"In fact... you know what?" Feitan slurred, as he swung round and staggered to his feet. "I'm... I'm gonna go downstairs. I wanna watch. No, fuck it. Let's go wild. I'm gonna bid. Yeah. I'm gonna bid the shit out this auction."

"Feitan, don't be stupid. You can't bid," Machi reminded him. "We don't have any money."

Feitan spun on his heel and swayed dangerously. Fixing her with an outraged stare, he shouted, "SHUT UP, MACHI! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" before he tangled himself in the curtain and staggered off downstairs.

As Hisoka collapsed into a fit of giggles, Phinks let out a resigned sigh. He rose with a yawn and a stretch.

"Better head down and keep an eye on him," he said. "I don't want him causing chaos. I'll be back up in a minute."

oOo

Illumi was dancing. Only Hisoka was left, so she sat and spoke to him.

"Hisoka?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like... you know... doing what you do here?"

"I do. It's fun. Why?"

"I don't know... it just seems—"

"Exploitative? Degrading?"

"Yeah... all of those things."

"The same labels could be applied to those who bid for my services. All I have to do is parade in front of them to music and they empty their pockets just for a brief slice of my time and expertise. I exploit them as much as they exploit me."

"So you think of it as providing a service?"

"Very much so. All service industries revolve around satisfying paying customers. Illumi's family provide a service. You provide a service too. The service I provide is only different because I trade in the currency of physical pleasure. When I fought for a living, no one batted an eyelid. Murder and thievery are all well and good, but when it comes to considering sex as a business transaction, people become rather prudish and conservative in their opinions."

"I suppose that makes sense. I mean, I'm not judging. Just trying to understand why."

"The job isn't for everyone, I must admit. You have to be able to remain detached as well as displaying a willingness to give the customer exactly what they want."

"And do you?"

"With customers? Always."

"Does Gon know you do this?"

"I'm sure Killua has told him, in an attempt to poison him against me. Not that it's worked."

"He's a sweet kid."

"Gon?"

"Yeah."

"He is."

"Hisoka, why did Illumi lose it with him earlier?"

"Because he has captured the heart of someone he cares for."

"Killua, right?"

Hisoka smiled and said nothing.

oOo

"Illumi..." Hisoka sang, in an eerie, whispery tone. "Illumi, where are you?"

Phinks hadn't reappeared when he had marched downstairs after Feitan, but Shizuku had, flopping onto the sofa with a happy sigh. Shizuku was cuddling into Machi and had draped one of her legs across Machi's. Shizuku's leg was surprisingly heavy. Her denim jeans felt nice, though. Much nicer than Hisoka's hair. She had pinched it earlier and discovered that Phinks was right. It was crispy.

Illumi had been dancing. On his own in the booth. Just swirling around. Making pretty arcs with his hands. Baise had begun to dance, and suddenly, Illumi had sprung to life. Very soon, their interest in Baise had waned in favour of watching Illumi as he spun and twisted like a leaf in the wind. He was beautiful, graceful, and as Nostrade's drugs coursed through his veins Machi noticed an intensity, a fervour about him she had not noticed before.

He danced for a long time; until his hair clung to his pale face in damp strings. Then his knees buckled and he lay slumped on the floor. After lying motionless for a moment, he began to drag his arms back and forth across the carpet, as though he were trying to wrap it around himself like a blanket.

And Hisoka kept calling on him in that creepy voice.

"Illumi... My beautiful Illumi..." he repeated, over and over, as Illumi dragged himself across the floor towards him. Their hands extended, they reached out and touched fingers, and Hisoka smiled.

"What is it, Hisoka?"

"Do you have any needles?"

Illumi managed a nod. "Why?"

"I want you to pierce my ears."

Illumi fixed his strange, round eyes on Hisoka and observed him for a long moment. Then he said, "Okay."

The next thing Machi knew, Illumi had sat next to Hisoka and was numbing his ear with an ice cube and Hisoka was moaning indecently and Shizuku was giggling. Then Illumi pulled out a wicked-looking needle that had been secreted somewhere about his person, undetected by the doormen, and without warning, drove its merciless tip through Hisoka's ear.

There was blood everywhere, and for some reason, that was incredibly funny.

oOo

"Hi Machi. Hope you're having fun. I'm not. Can't set up the cameras. The damned kids are here and they've brought two other guys with them. Leorio and I think the other one's called Crappy, or something. Weird name, right? Killua's packing. Says he's going to stay with them for a bit. I guess he's still steamed about the whole Gon thing. Anyway, I can't get a minute to myself just now. The kids are everywhere. Will keep trying. Nobu."

oOo

Warm. Everything was warm and nice. The music was back. Machi felt like dancing, which was strange, because she never danced. But she couldn't move from the sofa. Paku and Shizuku were curled up beside her. They were whispering to each other, laughing and pointing at Illumi and Hisoka, who were both sitting on the floor as Hisoka took time and care in braiding Illumi's impossibly long hair.

The table was a mess of blood-soaked tissues. Neon Nostrade had appeared briefly to deliver Hisoka a pair of pendant earrings. A little red heart dangled from each. She had made them herself and had chosen the hearts specially for Hisoka because she knew he loved card tricks and hearts were his favourite suit. She had lots of beads upstairs and made earrings all the time. It was not a problem. Not a problem at all.

Hisoka had been effusive in his praise and had handed them to Illumi, who had snatched them up with eager hands and had forced them through the neat wounds he had made. Ecstatic, Hisoka had wrapped his arms around Illumi's waist and had buried his head in his chest, while Illumi leaned over Hisoka, only interested in playing with the dangly, sparkling earrings with the tip of a finger, either not noticing or not caring that Hisoka's face and neck were covered in dried blood.

As Hisoka sat and played with Illumi's hair, Machi's phone beeped. Unlocking it, she found a message from Phinks.

"Machi, we're outside," it read. "Shalnark knocked some guy the fuck out and we had to leave sharp before the bouncers called the cops. Thought it would be Feitan causing the trouble, but I guess coke and Shal don't mix. We're heading to Menchi's to get something to sober him up. Feitan's okay. He bid on that dancer a couple of times, but I stopped him before it got serious. Uvo's fine. He's hardly even buzzed. It takes forty cans to get him going and he didn't touch Hisoka's powder surprise. Let me know if you're heading too. If you're staying, don't let Hisoka feel you up. It demeans us all. Later. P."

"Guys..." she said. "We're going to have to go."

Paku and Shizuku stared up at her.

"What? Why?"

"The guys got kicked out."

"How?"

"Shalnark knocked a guy out."

"Shalnark? Really?" Paku said in disbelief.

"Yeah," Machi confirmed. Giving a great heave, she managed to force herself to her feet. Her head felt light. She wondered how long it would take for the drug to wear off. "We'd better head. They've dragged him to Menchi's. Probably going to feed him coffee till he stops punching strangers. You guys coming, or are you fine sitting here playing hairdressers?" she added, addressing Hisoka and Illumi.

oOo

It had been too cold outside to walk, so they had stolen a car. It had all been Hisoka's idea. He hadn't wanted Illumi to walk, so he had disappeared for five minutes and had come back with a car. An expensive one, champagne coloured, with leather seats and screens in the back.

He was laughing when he'd pulled up to the kerb and had shouted for them to jump in, beckoning them inside with a sharp smile and sparkling, inviting, pink talons. Illumi had insisted he wanted to drive because Hisoka was too drunk, so they had swapped places, Hisoka having taken the passenger seat. Machi, Paku and Shizuku had piled into the back.

With a screech of tires, Illumi had floored it.

They were roaring through the Southernpiece Tunnel that would take them back to Number 44. The tunnel was long and ran under the wide river that neatly bisected Yorknew City. Hisoka had fiddled with the needlessly complicated interface on the dashboard and had switched on the radio, and it was so loud, the subwoofers at her feet throbbed and Machi could feel the music buzzing through her entire body. The sickly yellow tunnel lights flickered past at such a speed, it looked as though they were strobing.

Hisoka was laughing and protesting because Shizuku had opened a window, letting in a wild, buffeting gust of air. It was ruining his hair, he complained.

When they were clear of the tunnel, Hisoka began to pester Illumi, and everything went wrong.

Up ahead, were a set of traffic lights at a crossroads. The road ahead was clear, but there were lines of traffic queued up, waiting to turn or steam straight across. The lights were at green, but it was obvious they were about to turn.

Hisoka reached to turn down the radio.

"Illumi..." he ventured, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I dare you to run the light."

"What?" Paku said weakly, her voice strained from having to shout over the radio. "No! Don't be stupid. Don't run the light."

"Please," Hisoka begged, bringing his hands together in supplication. "Put your foot down. You'll make it, I promise—"

"Don't be fucking stupid," Machi said, with a sudden jolt of anger. She leaned over and gave Hisoka a rough shake. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Ignoring her, the crossroads advancing, Hisoka turned his imploring eyes on Illumi.

"Come on," he whispered, giggling like a maniac. "It'll be fun. Do it. Put your foot down. We'll make it..."

To Machi's horror, Illumi obeyed. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the car shot forward. Thrown backwards, she crashed into Shizuku, who was screaming as her hands fumbled frantically for her seatbelt.

The light turned red before they reached the crossroads and Machi heard herself screaming at Illumi to stop, as Hisoka's laughter became hysterical and he cheered and urged Illumi on.

"Too late now!" he cried, waving his hands joyfully. "Too late now! Keep going, keep going—!"

They hit the crossroad just as the advancing traffic began to move forward, slowly, as most of the drivers were not mad and had seen Illumi coming as they waited for the lights to change – except for one driver who had been cruising at speed in an empty lane as the lights hit green.

They almost made it. Almost. Paku only spotted the cruiser at the last second. She screamed, Shizuku screamed and Machi braced herself for impact as Hisoka whooped and writhed and cackled in the passenger seat like a madman.

There was a bang and a squeal of metal as the cruiser clipped the back of their car. It spun off the road and up onto the sidewalk with a sickening jolt, where it slammed to a halt.

There was a horrible silence. Then Shizuku began to whimper quietly. Paku had been forced up against the window and she clung to the front seat, breathing hard. Machi's heart was pounding. They had been this close... _this close_.

A cold fury stole over her and she shot out an angry fist, grabbing Hisoka by the collar, ready to rip right through him for being so reckless and stupid.

"What the hell? We could have died!" she seethed, her anger only intensifying when she realised Hisoka was so fucking high he could hardly understand a word she was saying.

She tossed him back into the seat in disgust and almost jumped out her skin when a passerby knocked on the window.

"Hey, you alright in there?" a man's voice called out, low, rumbling and familiar.

A strong, square face puckered with ropey scars peered in through the window. It was Franklin. The boss must have asked him to tail them. Thank god...

"What?" Illumi inquired, fixing his strange, round eyes on Franklin. "Yes, we're quite alright. I think." Illumi craned his neck round to address his three passengers in the back. "Everyone well in the back?"

"Fine," Machi managed through gritted teeth. "No thanks to you."

Ignoring her, Illumi turned his attention once again to Franklin. "Yes, we're all fine. We were just heading home, so I really should be going."

"Don't think you're gonna get very far," Franklin warned. "There's a bitch of a dent in the fender at the back. It's digging right into the tyre. The wheel looks stuck. I wouldn't wanna attempt that journey if I were you."

"Oh," Illumi said.

"I'll give you a lift, if you want?"

"That would be great," Machi answered, with a touch more force than she had intended.

"Where you headed?"

"You know Menchi's Deli on Broad Street?"

"Yeah, I live just round the corner. Umm..." Franklin hesitated, scratching his head. "Is that guy okay?"

Machi didn't even need to look round to know whom Frankin referred to. Hisoka was still laughing, breathless and hysterical. He had slid halfway off the seat and his make-up was running down his face as he gasped for air. His face and neck were streaked with dried blood.

"He's fine," Illumi answered. "He's just really high right now. And a lift round to Menchi's would be great. I can deal with all the insurance stuff from there," he lied. "Thank you very much!"

oOo

It was impressive how quickly a brush with death could transform a mind labouring under the effects of mindless self-indulgence into something clear, sober, twitchy and alert. As Machi sat in the crowded booth at Menchi's, she pondered upon this fact while nursing her coffee and trying to block out the raucous chatter of the other customers who had done exactly the same thing as the troupe and shambled along to the deli for something to eat after leaving bars and clubs.

Though it had been a tight squeeze fitting all of them in, the troupe were lucky to have the booth. A long queue snaked out the front door. It was clear that weekend early-hours were a busy and lucrative time for the deli, as both Menchi and Buhara were on, smiling as they darted back and forth from the kitchen to bring customers their freshly cooked orders. Their faces shone with sweat and happiness.

Perched at the edge of the booth, Machi watched them go about their business, trying not to make eye contact with Nobunaga, who had appeared five minutes ago on pretence of "getting away from the kids". He obviously wanted to update her on the camera situation. She hoped against hope that he had at least made an attempt, otherwise, after the night she'd had, there was a strong case to be made for wrapping her fingers round his throat and squeezing till he stopped breathing.

There was one plus. As soon as he had sat down, Illumi had passed out. He was currently draped across Hisoka and Shalnark, and no amount of poking, prodding or shouting in his ear could wake him. If it came to it, Machi considered, she could sneak away with Nobu and plant the cameras. It would be fine. All was not lost. The plan could still work.

"Guys...?" Shizuku ventured. Everyone turned. Shizuku was peering over the top of her coke-bottle frames at Menchi and Buhara, looking thoughtful.

"What's up?" Phinks asked.

"You know Menchi and Buhara?"

"Yeah?"

"Are they going out?"

"Oh yes," Hisoka answered, with a small smile. "They've been together for years. Buhara told me they bought this place together. They live upstairs."

"I figured that..." Shizuku replied. She paused for a moment, blinked, then said, "So, I have this problem with it."

"Oh?" Hisoka said, his interest suddenly piqued. "Don't tell me you have a thing for Buhara? Or Menchi? I'll tell you plainly that unless you can cook, you don't have a chance."

"Nah," Shizuku dismissed. "It's just the logistics of the whole thing. Like, how do they even have sex? She's so skinny and tiny and he's, like, huge and made from flab. How does it even work?"

Hisoka began to giggle and the rest of the troupe tried to hide their laughter behind their hands, while sneaking furtive glances across the table at the oblivious Menchi and Buhara.

"She'll need a hard hat," Uvo chortled. "You know? One of those ones with the lights on. And she'd need to squeeze through his folds to find his wang."

"Hey, you know how if you get really fat like Buhara, you get bigger? Like, your arms and stuff?" Shizuku added brightly, her eyes shining as though they were contemplating the very secrets of the universe. "Do dicks get bigger, or do they stay the same size and just disappear?"

Silence fell, as the troupe and Hisoka considered the matter.

"Hey, I dunno. That's a good question," Feitan muttered. "I mean, Uvo, you're huge, but you're not a thundering lardass like Buhara, so it's not as if we can even ask you."

"Give me a second and I'll Moogle it," Shalnark said, as he fumbled in his pocket for his smartphone. Typing the question into the search engine, the entire table awaited the answer with baited breath.

"What does it say?" Hisoka asked. "Now that the issue has been raised, I'm rather keen to find out how well-endowed Buhara might be."

"Well, it's not good news," Shalnark replied, with an evil grin. "Apparently, the dicks of fat guys are normal sized, but the growth of fat in the pubic region buries part of the penis, so it appears much smaller than it actually is."

"That's their excuse," Nobu jibed, eliciting another round of repressed sniggering.

"Thanks for that, Shizuku," Paku sighed, as she stirred her coffee. "Now every time I come in here, I'm going to imagine poor Menchi having to climb that wobbling mountain."

"You're not the only one," Phinks muttered. Then he gave the comatose Illumi a rough nudge and added, "He's the only one who's escaped the horror."

"It's okay," Feitan said slyly. "Pass me some of your fries and we can even the score."

The troupe proceeded to spend an enjoyable, diverting fifteen minutes or so, arranging Illumi into compromising poses while Shalnark danced around and recording the footage on his phone for posterity. While Feitan had shoved fries up his nose, Phinks had applied a liberal amount of 'ketchup makeup' to make him look pretty and to 'help the fries stick'. Shizuku and Paku had then teamed up to lick both sides of his face at once, and there was a particularly incriminating photo in which Uvo had shoved Illumi's head into his crotch while feigning orgasm.

It was pretty funny. Menchi and Buhara were watching them from the counter, shaking their heads and laughing. Strangers in the queue had even begun cat call and offer suggestions.

"_I've got a marker! Draw cocks on him!"_

"_Nah, steal all his clothes and run for it!"_

"_Smack your balls off his head!"_

Then one girl cried out:

"_Kiss him!"_

Hisoka stepped forward. Climbing atop the unconscious Illumi, he straddled him, smiled and waved for the camera, then grabbed Illumi's face and brought it to his in a deep, passionate kiss.

The deli erupted. The bystanders began to wolf-whistle and jeer. Feitan, Phinks, Uvo's faces contorted into a strange mixture of amusement and bewilderment, with just a touch of horror. Nobu looked as though he didn't know whether to laugh or squirm. Paku's gossip sensors were plainly on overdrive and Shizuku was nodding approvingly, asking Shalnark whether he was getting all this.

When Hisoka stuck his hand down Illumi's pants, however, Machi decided enough was enough.

She lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of Hisoka's hair and dragged him off Illumi with a rough, unyielding hand. She released her grip only when Hisoka was far away enough that he couldn't climb straight back on. He stumbled and fell to the floor, where he sat in a bewildered heap and stared up at her with a hurt look.

"Too far," she said. "I'm taking him home."

Wrapping Illumi's arms around her shoulders, she lifted him and made for the door. The line of customers all sighed and began to complain that she was spoiling all the fun.

Then she stopped. Hisoka stood in the doorway, blocking the exit.

"I'll help you," he said.

A tense silence fell.

Machi squared herself and stared coldly at Hisoka. He wasn't looking at her, though. He was looking at Illumi, with a glint in his eyes she recognised only too well. It seemed Hisoka wasn't as adept at disguising it when he was hammered.

"Nobu, can you give me a hand?" she called out, ignoring Hisoka. In a trice, Nobu appeared at her side and wrapped Illumi's other arm round his shoulders.

They pushed past Hisoka and dragged Illumi outside, but Hisoka followed them all the way to number 44, pouting, protesting, turning on the charm, asking them why they were taking Illumi away, as if he didn't know.

When Machi kicked the front door open, they almost fell over the sports bags piled at the door.

"The kids must've finished packing," Nobu muttered.

"Packing?" Hisoka asked. "Where are they going?"

"Killua's going to stay at Leorio and Crappy's. Didn't say why," Nobu answered.

"Oh..."

"Look, I know you bang him, but it's not gonna happen, so could you at least help out by taking his legs?" Nobu said frankly. "Otherwise the two of us are going to have to drag him up to the top floor."

Hisoka shrugged. "Sure."

With a lot of huffing and puffing and cursing and muttering, they made it to the top floor. It turned out that Illumi was a lot heavier than he looked. Then he was quite tall, Machi supposed, as she mopped her brow.

They had taken a brief break, leaving Illumi slumped against the wall. Hisoka was crouched next to him, balancing on the tips of his stiletto boots, stroking Illumi's hair while Nobu kept a wrathful eye on him to make sure it didn't go any further.

"Don't worry," Hisoka said sweetly, as Illumi's eyelids fluttered and he began to stir. "You're home, Illumi. I'm going to put you to bed."

"No you're fucking not," Machi snapped. She thrust out a finger, pointing across the hall to Hisoka's room. "Leave. Go to your room. Now."

Hisoka began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned.

He paused for a moment, smiling at her. Then he said, "What if I won't?"

Nobu stepped forward.

"We're not kidding," Nobu threatened.

Hisoka's narrow eyes flitted left and right, calculating, wondering if it was worth the risk. Machi's heart was in her mouth, though she relished the thought of having an excuse to hand Hisoka his ass. After all the shit he'd pulled today, he deserved it.

But Hisoka shrugged.

"Fine," he said.

Then he walked away and disappeared into his room without another word.

For a minute, Machi and Nobu remained on the alert, watching, waiting for any signs of movement.

"I don't trust him," she whispered.

"Me neither."

Then she had an idea.

"Nobu," she said, lowering her voice still further and leaning in so she wouldn't be overheard by the muttering Illumi. "Did you get the cameras in?"

"No. That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. The kids were buzzing about upstairs. I'm gonna do it now."

"Good. I'll wait out here. And if he takes one step out of that door, I'll break his fucking neck."

oOo


End file.
